


Parenting 101

by beespiesandplaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beespiesandplaid/pseuds/beespiesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andromeda falls sick, Harry is forced to take his duties as godfather seriously and care for four year old Teddy. When Hermione convinces him to attend a support group for single wizarding parents, the last person he expects to find himself sitting beside is Draco Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this first chapter - comments are very welcome and appreciated. More chapters will be up soon. :)

 

Harry stares at the letter in his hands dumbly. The words themselves are simple enough to understand. It’s their implications he is struggling with. They are written on a single sheet of blank parchment, thick and creamy, the kind Andromeda always writes on. The handwriting is slightly shaky and there is a large inkdrop in the corner, spidery lines spreading through the grains of the paper.

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ I’ve been having some memory problems lately. I’ve been getting horribly confused. I saw a healer and it was more serious than I first thought. I am to be taken into full time care at St Mungo’s for the foreseeable future.  _

_ Will you take care of Teddy for me? I know Dora and Remus would want that more than anything else. I can’t bear for him to go into care.  _

_ I am so sorry,  _

 

_ Yours,  _

_ Andromeda.  _

 

Andromeda and illness are two incongruent images. They go together about as well as brussel sprouts and peanut butter (a combination Ron tried once when they hadn’t been shopping in awhile.) She’s always been so strong and stoic that the idea of her lying in a hospital bed is difficult to picture. What is wrong with her? The letter is so vague. Is it treatable? Fatal? A horrible practical joke?

_ Teddy _ . Harry loves Teddy more than he thought he could love anyone, fiercely and without reserve. But he is 22 years old, fresh out of Auror training, battle scarred and barely able to do his own laundry without Hermione reminding him. He’s just moved in with Ginny. His life is starting. Kids weren’t part of that picture. 

 

He sits down heavily, wondering what the hell to do next. Hermione, he thinks. Hermione will probably know. She probably has a book. “Stepping up: How to take your role as godfather seriously” or some other nice, easy 101 kind of introduction to parenting. Or not. But she knows things. Things he doesn’t know. Like how the fuck to carry out a nighttime raid when you have to read a bed time story to your four year old adoptive son. 

 

He gets up and goes to throw a handful of floo powder into the grate. But the fire isn’t lit and he’s all run out anyway.

 

Harry looks around his tiny apartment gloomily, seeing it for the first time with the eyes of a prospective parent. A tower of unwashed dishes rise from the sink - this is the first full day he’s been home in a week, life consumed by a case involving a string of magical drug overdoses from a powerful hallucinogenic made from some very illegal fermented mushrooms. The coffee table has a patchwork of rings left from glasses and cups. Three unwashed coffee mugs sit in a line. His laundry basket is overflowing and his fridge is empty, his bed unmade and his socks strewn across the floor. 

 

He  will probably get food poisoning soon, he thinks with resignation. He picks up his wand (the one thing that he never loses and actually cares for) and gets to work with some cleaning charms. They have never been a strong-point of his though, and he ends up washing the dishes by hand and stacking them up to dry.

 

When the clock reaches 12, he apparates to the coffee-shop where Hermione refuels on her lunch break. It’s a small place in muggle London, not too far from the entrance to the Ministry. They make excellent hot chocolate, thick and creamy and just sweet enough to be nice, but not so sweet it makes your stomach turn when you stand up after finishing it. 

 

Harry sits down in a seat by the window. It’s late November, and far too cold to wait outside, even with a warming charm cast on his coat. Sinking into a squashy sofa, he looks around, drinking in the comforting atmosphere and the Hermione-ness of the place. Several large bookshelves line the walls, filled with muggle paperbacks of all genres. Hermione likes to read them when she gets the chance - her and Ron’s apartment is crammed with books, everything from muggle fantasies with laughable magic systems, to tomes on the history of magical ailments. 

 

“Harry?” a concerned voice asks, and he looks up into Hermione’s eyes. Her hair has escaped the bun she has vainly tried to wrestle it into, and it frizzes out like a halo around her head. This either means something exciting has been happening, or she is horribly stressed. Or both. 

 

“Hey,” Harry says, trying to smile and failing. She sits down beside him, dropping her small bag with a heavy clunk that belies its true contents. 

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

He hands her the letter wordlessly. 

 

“Well,” she says finally. “That’s a bit vague.” 

 

“Not the bit about Teddy.” 

 

“Oh, Harry,” she says, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I love him, Hermione. I really do. But I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a father.” 

 

“Harry,” Hermione says, and her tone of voice forces him to turn and look into her eyes. “You defeated the most evil wizard in recent history. You are capable of anything.” 

 

Harry laughs weakly. “Something tells me that will seem easy compared to parenthood.” 

 

“Look,” Hermione says practically. “It might not be forever. And you have lots of support - me and Ron will help, of course, and you know Molly would be delighted to help as well - I think she’s getting broody - and there are plenty of support groups for single wizarding parents, you know, after the war a lot of them sprang up.” 

 

Harry nods, knowing that Hermione speaks the truth. 

 

“How will I keep working though?” he says. “Aurors don’t exactly have nine to five jobs, and it’s dangerous work. I can’t do something like that while caring for a four year old.” 

 

“Take a few weeks off to get settled with Teddy, and then once you have arrangements in place, go back. You are one of their best Auror’s - you could take a year off and still have a job when you get back.” 

 

“Perks of being the chosen one, huh?” Harry says, a little bitter. He hates to be given things because of his name.

 

“Perk of being good at your job, Harry,” Hermione says, with the patience of someone who knows all of his worries and insecurities. 

 

“I had better go and see Andromeda,” Harry says. “I really don’t know what is wrong with her.” 

 

“Have you noticed anything different lately?” Hermione asks. 

 

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing that stands out. I haven’t seen them for two weeks though.” 

 

“Floo me later?” Hermione says. 

 

“I’ll come over. There is no food in my house,” Harry says. Hermione shakes her head despairingly. Harry holds up his hands in defence. “I’ve hardly been there because of this case. You should know - Ron’s been on it too.” 

 

“I’ve got to go,” she says. “I’ve got a meeting with my publisher this afternoon. I’ll see you later though,” she kisses him on the cheek and gets into the queue. Harry can’t be sure, but he thinks she Confunds the people in the queue in order to skip to the front. She only loses her ethics for coffee. 

 

…

 

“Andromeda?” Harry calls, unlocking the door with his wand. Teddy’s laughter drifts out from the living room and he can hear the sound of a teaspoon stirring tea. Ordinarily he’d go straight to Teddy and pick him up and tickle him till their shrieks of laughter drew Andromeda into the room, frowning at the racket they made. But today he walks quietly into the kitchen so that he can speak to Andromeda without Teddy hanging onto his leg. 

 

“Harry?” she says, turning to face him. There are bags under her eyes and Harry can see the worry hanging over her, a heavy grey shadow pressing her shoulders into a slump. She makes him a mug of tea and they sit at the table. 

 

“What happened?” he asks. Andromeda shakes her head. 

 

“They aren’t sure. They think… they think it’s side effects from one of the curses used when me and Ted were tortured. Some kind of a snowball effect, hardly noticeable at first but now it’s speeding up.” 

 

“Can they fix it?” 

 

She just shrugs. “They don’t even know what it is. Doing magic on the mind is dangerous when done by the most skilled of wizards. That death eater who hit me was a bloody buffoon.” 

 

Andromeda doesn’t swear often. When she does it reminds him suddenly, painfully, of Tonks. The war fills the room, the oppressive memories seeming to dim the winter sunlight, casting everything in shadow. Moving on is impossible. Every time you think you are fine, dare to believe your wounds are closed, that the pain is going to remain a dull, bearable ache, something else surfaces. 

 

“They are going to run more tests,” she says. “But they aren’t hopeful.” 

 

Except for the worry, Harry can’t see any change in Andromeda. She sips her tea carefully, little finger poking out, a throwback to her upbringing. 

 

But then her eyes glaze over and her mouth goes slack. She mumbles something incoherent. 

 

“Andromeda?” Harry says urgently. She doesn’t respond. Her eyes are moving around with wild fear yet the subject of her terror is not in the room. She is somewhere else entirely. Her hand goes slack and the teacup falls before Harry can stop it, lukewarm tea pooling on the wooden table. Andromeda falls quiet and Harry can hear the steady drip as drops of tea splash onto the tiles. 

 

He doesn’t know what to do. That is all he can think about, in that moment. How utterly helpless he is, how powerless he is against this. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into the soft skin of his palms until the pain calms him. 

 

And then she is back. She looks at him, a little dazed, and carries on talking about St Mungo’s. 

No wonder she can’t care for Teddy. Harry hopes he has never seen his grandmother like that. But Andromeda doesn’t seem to be completely aware of what is going on. 

 

“They are worried I’ll become dangerous,” she says, matter of factly. It’s only the tightness at the corners of her mouth that show the emotion she feels beneath.

 

Harry puts an arm around her and her shoulders shake as she leans on him. He can feel how frail she is beside him, can feel the points of her elbows beneath the loose robes she is wearing. 

 

“It’s OK to be scared,” he says. 

 

“I’m not scared,” she replies, voice hard. “I’m angry.” 

 

“We’ll fix it.” 

 

She looks at him sternly. “You will take care of my grandson and let the healers fix it. Don’t you go anywhere near my head with that wild magic of yours.” 

 

Harry opens his mouth in outrage. She raises a finger to shush him. 

 

“Do you want me to take Teddy today?” he asks, instead of defending himself. Andromeda slumps. 

 

“Yes. I think that will be best.” 

 

“He’s going to be fine,” Harry promises. 

 

“And you?” 

 

Harry takes a deep breath. “And I’ll be fine too. We’ll all be fine, OK?” 

 

Denial is a wonderful thing, Harry thinks, as he heads into the living room to try and explain the situation to Teddy. 

 

…

 

“A kid?” Ginny says, wrinkling her nose. 

 

“Not “a kid”” Harry says, making quotation marks with his fingers and failing to disguise his irritation. “Teddy Lupin. My godson. Who needs me to care for him.” 

 

“I’m only 21,” she says. 

 

“And?” 

 

Ginny shakes her head. 

 

“I’m not up for kids, Harry.”

 

“I’m not proposing we have children, Ginny. I’m telling you that Teddy is my responsibility. I’m asking for your help.” 

 

Ginny looks down at her hands, twisted together in her lap, and Harry knows the answer before she says it. He knew it when he read the letter, really. But he hoped maybe it would be different. He looks at her before she says the words, with his last hope heavy in his mouth in the form of a million sentences asking her to change her mind. The sun is setting and her hair burns, the way it did when the light caught it in Gryffindor tower on the day of their first kiss. She is beautiful and wild and absolutely not ready for motherhood. And, unlike him, she has a choice. 

 

“I’m sorry, Harry. It’s my first season with the Harpies. My career is taking off. I can’t be tied down like that. There’s so much I want to do, want to see…” 

Harry bites his lip, swapping emotion for pain.

 

“…I always thought it would be you,” she said. “I imagined it.” 

 

“You can have that,” he says. 

 

“Our own kids, Harry. When we were ready.”

 

“I can’t wait for you to be ready,” Harry says. 

 

Ginny nods, and a tear slides down her cheek. Harry clenches his fist to stop himself from brushing it away. He doesn’t know how he is going to get used to looking at Ginny differently. 

 

“Goodbye, Harry,” she whispers, leaning across the table to give him one last, lingering kiss. Harry closes his eyes and when he opens them he is alone in the room, lit with blue twilight. 

  
Time to go and collect Teddy. 


	2. Support Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Potter,” Malfoy sneers, mouth stretching with disgust around the word, and he’s sixteen again and nothing has changed, there is only testosterone and rage and a desire to do something, anything, to stop that smirk.  
> “Got someone knocked up, have you? Didn’t think you had it in you, if you know what I mean.”
> 
> Or, Harry meets Draco for the first time in four years and it goes even worse than he could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback is very welcome. :)

Harry is curled up on Ron and Hermione’s couch. His arm is going dead from the weight of a sleeping Teddy, who decided to sit on his lap and ended up falling asleep lying across him. Since leaving Andromeda’s, he’d been quiet. Though he hadn’t voiced any worries, he seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation, especially when Harry was packing his things. Ordinarily he never took more than a small bag when he came to stay. 

Exhaustion made Harry’s limbs heavy and his eyelids droop. He was almost asleep when Hermione brought a bowl of soup and a bread roll  to him. She sat in an arm chair, legs tucked beneath her, and waited quietly whilst Harry ate with his free hand.

“How is Andromeda?” she asks at last.

“I don’t know. Something is… something’s broken in her head. They think it’s some delayed reaction to an old curse.” Harry remembers her glazed, terrified eyes and shivers.

“I got you some shopping,” she says, gesturing to two bags in the corner. “I got Teddy’s favorites, that I could remember. And soap and loo roll and everything.”

Harry smiles, the warmth of being cared for taking the edge off of the stress. “What would I do without you, Hermione?”

“Die,” she says, simply. It’s probably true as well. No way would he have made it through the war without her. Sometimes he wonders if it should have been him and Hermione. That’s the way it would have made sense, he thinks. She’s the heroine of the story. But when he looks at her, wild hair and smiling brown eyes, it’s only a familial affection he feels.

“D’you think Ron will get home this evening?”

She sighs. “He’s busy with paperwork. He said he’ll try and be back by seven.”

“He’ll be in a foul mood then,” Harry says. Ron hates paperwork more than most things.

“I’ve spoken to Molly. She says she will watch Teddy on Saturday morning so you can go to this group, meet some people who understand. I think it’ll help make it easier.”

“Aren’t you supposed to take the kids with you?”

“You can if you want. I thought it would be easier for you to meet some people first. Molly is delighted to have him anyway. I’m telling you, that woman has got issues. Everytime I’m there she stares at my stomach as though she’s hoping a grandchild will pop out spontaneously. I hate Bill and Fleur for deciding to raise their kids in France.”

Harry laughs. 

“I mean, surely one of her other kids could have a few to placate her? Though Charlie’s a lost cause for now - he’s living with a man and taming dragons. Not exactly in a good position for child rearing. Percy is climbing the political ladder. And…”

She doesn’t discuss George. Harry sighs. Four years hasn’t been long enough to heal all the wounds left from the war.

 

…

Teddy falls asleep quickly, snuggled under a blanket on the couch. He hasn’t sorted the spare room out yet.

Ginny’s clothes are gone from the wardrobe, her toiletries from the bathroom, her various nick nacks from the shelves. Harry sits on the edge of his unmade bed with his head in his hands. Dust motes shine in the strip of moonlight that pours through the gap in the curtains, shining on Ginny’s side of the bed.

It shouldn’t have been so easy for them to break apart, he thinks. He remembers a conversation he had with Hermione years ago, when he and Ginny had been having some problems after the war. She thought Ginny was in love with the idea of Harry, the hero, rather than Harry the person.

As he sits there in ratty boxer shorts on the verge of tears, he thinks he can see why she wouldn’t hang on to Harry, the person. Guilt fills his chest, thick and ugly, at his sadness. He loves Teddy. He cares for Andromeda. He should be embracing this new challenge, should be happy that he can help the people he loves.

But all he can think about is how completely and utterly relieved he is that Teddy no longer wears nappies.

 

…

He arrives late to the support group, and a room full of people turn to stare at him. 11 years in the spotlight hasn’t been enough to stop his skin prickling at unwanted attention. He sits down in the first empty seat he spots, looking at the floor whilst he waits for the heat to fade from his cheeks.

He probably should have thought of the stares before coming here. Of course the Chosen One having a kid would make the news. Especially if he was apparently without a partner. His relationship with Teddy was largely unknown, so people were probably coming up with all kinds of saucy scandal as he walked through the room.

He sighs and lifts his head, looking around. There are a few young witches, some heavily pregnant, some with babies and toddlers hanging on to them. They gather together, smiling and chatting whilst their children fight on the floor beneath their baby bumps.

Then there’s another close knit group, and Harry recognizes them instantly. Widows from the war. Witches and wizards of a range of ages sit together. They aren’t so excitable as the younger witches - grief lingers around them, every meeting surely a reminder of who they have lost. Then there are other random people, chatting in pairs and three’s. Harry doesn’t recognize any of them by name, but he thinks he knows a few faces from students in the years above him in Hogwarts. There’s a boy from Ginny’s year with a newborn on his knee and his mother beside him, his face terrified as he looks at his daughter like he might break her.

Harry doesn’t remember much from his sex ed classes at the muggle primary school he attended, but what he does know is that wizard contraception is a bit more unpredictable than muggles. It relies on accurately cast charms and perfectly brewed potions, which, when attempted by amateur witches and wizards drunk on hormones can go wrong all too easily. Harry has never understood why wizards don’t do themselves a favour and just adopt the practice of condoms. Or at least add a decent health and wellbeing class to the curriculum.

When he has finished mulling over the wizarding world’s attitude towards sex, he decides he should probably try and make small talk or something. He turns to the person sat beside him and rage flares up inside him like a sore throat. 

Blond hair, a little longer from a few years growth, sharp cheekbones, every muscle pulled into an oh so familiar smirk that makes him want to punch something.

“Malfoy,” he grits out, his first thought being that Malfoy has somehow heard about Teddy and come here just to mock him. Then he notices the baby cradled in Malfoy’s arms, a peacefully sleeping little thing with soft blonde curls and an upturned nose. Huh. 

“Potter,” Malfoy sneers, mouth stretching with disgust around the word, and he’s sixteen again and nothing has changed, there is only testosterone and rage and a desire to do something, anything, to stop that smirk.

“Got someone knocked up, have you? Didn’t think you had it in you, if you know what I mean.”

Harry glares and digs his nails into his palms. Not here. He can’t have a fight at a meeting for single parents. The Prophet would have a field day.

“Was it Weasley? Surely not. They love popping out kids. A bit of something on the side then, was it?” he tuts. “You know Potter, I always knew you weren’t as noble as you made out.”

Oh, where to even start. Four years of silence and it’s all back again, like a tidal wave rushing over his body, more emotion than he can handle. Too many insults to choose. What will piss Malfoy off the most in this second? Harry looks at him, hair messier than he remembers, eyes bright with feeling, lips red and bitten.

He does the unthinkable. Meaning, he really didn’t think.

He kisses him.

_ Oh fuck _ , he thinks distantly, as Malfoy’s lips part in surprise and a hot rush of astonished breath mingles with his own.  _ This is so much worse than fighting him.  _ He wrenches himself away and stands up, smoothing his shirt down. Malfoy is looking at him like he’s grown tentacles or something.

“Cute baby,” Harry stammers. Then he turns and leaves the room, thirteen astonished pairs of eyes following him. He doesn’t even feel them.

 

… 

 

He wants nothing more than to crawl into a nest of duvets and sleep until he forgets that the surprised noise Malfoy made, or the way his lips looked, wet from a kiss, or the way his long fingers looked, cradling a baby. 

He thinks of his sneer instead, thinks of every repulsive, nasty thing that has ever come from those toxic lips. What the hell is wrong with him? Seriously? Harry has always known he was a bit odd, a bit of an idiot even, but this has got to take the biscuit. 

Pushing the horrendous afternoon from his mind, he Apparates to the Burrow and enters the kitchen to find Molly and Teddy sitting at the rough wooden table, both eating enormous chunks of cakes and laughing. 

“You’d better not be talking about me,” Harry says, sitting down beside his godson and stealing a chunk of cake from his plate.

“Hey!” Teddy protests, crumbs falling from his mouth. “That’s mine!”

“It’s nice to share,” Harry says, though he is grinning. Mrs Weasley’s cake is too good to resist.

Teddy points at the sideboard, where the rest of the cake is sitting on a plate. “Not if you don’t have to,” he says, in a very reasonable tone. Molly waves her wand and the cake cuts itself. A plate with a generous slice lands in front of Harry. He has never needed cake more.

“How was your meeting, Harry dear?” Molly asks, wiping her mouth neatly.

“Oh,” says Harry. “Um. Interesting. I’m not quite sure I fit in there, to be honest.”

"Can we have chips for tea?” Teddy asks, poking Harry in the arm when he doesn’t have his immediate attention. Harry knows Andromeda would never let him behave like that. But Harry has never been able to admonish Teddy for anything.  And right now, he’s grateful for anything that lets him dodge questions about the bloody parenting group. A book, that’s what he needs. Parenting 101. Not a support group with his worst enemy cradling an adorable baby and… smirking.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Imaginary dragons (and grocery shopping)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to grips with the boring bits of parenting and Ron and Hermione demand an explanation for why the prophet thinks he's in a secret relationship with Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter three. Hope you like it and don't die from the fluff. Feedback is much appreciated. Next chapter will (probably) see Malfoy reappearing, so that will be interesting. 
> 
> Also, I drew art of Harry and Teddy being cute. You can see it on my tumblr. (I also accept prompts/requests ect so feel free to suggest fic or art ideas)

<http://ofboysandravens.tumblr.com/image/137105497493>

 

When denial fails, avoidance is the logical next step. At least, this is the philosophy Harry takes after the disastrous support group meeting. He’d been hoping he could pretend it didn’t happen, but it turned out Rita Skeeta’s cousin was the best friend of one of the people in attendance (who had been left nameless in the article) and so the next morning Harry was greeted by a grumpy Teddy (He’d not gotten the hang of enforcing bedtimes yet), a Prophet headline that shouted about his less than heterosexual encounter with Draco Malfoy and about six owls from his friends demanding to know what the heck was going on.

 

The only blessing was that no one had managed to take a picture.

 

Whilst scanning through the article, Harry pours milk over Teddy’s lucky cauldrons (Andromeda gets them sent over from Hogsmeade) and contemplates whether they can just hide out in his apartment until it’s time for Teddy to go to Hogwarts. 

 

There is a tug at his trouser leg and Harry looks down to see the bowl overflowing with milk, liquid dripping from the sideboard and onto his socked feet. He shudders. Wet socks are on the same level of nastiness as Voldemort and if anyone tries to tell him that is an exaggeration, he will hex them. 

 

“That’s too much milk,” Teddy says. “Maybe.” 

 

“Yes. Yes it is,” Harry sighs, casting a cleaning charm and starting over. He upends the cereal box and one tragic cauldron falls out. Teddy’s face falls. 

 

“How about peanut butter?” Harry asks. “Peanut butter on…” he looks around desperately, but the bread bin is empty as well. “Digestives?” 

 

Teddy raises an eyebrow, an impressive feat for a four year old. “Andromeda says only breakfast for breakfast.” 

 

Harry almost shouts that Andromeda isn’t here, but Teddy’s lower lip is already trembling so he sighs and crouches down on the floor beside his godson. 

 

“Hey. I really suck at grocery shopping, OK? Useless. I’m an idiot. You can call me an idiot if you want.” 

 

“Idiot,” Teddy says, and giggles with the thrill of it. 

 

“Let’s go shopping now, yeah? You are probably better at it than me. You can make sure we get all the right stuff.” 

 

They get ready quickly, fuelled by hunger. Harry’s floo powder supply is still non existent so they walk to the local Sainsbury’s, bundled up in coats and gloves. Teddy wears his wellies and it takes forever to get there because he insists on jumping in every puddle he sees at least once. The combination of January,  England, and not enough money spent on making decent pavements means that this is an awful lot of puddles.

 

“Are you not hungry?” Harry asks, after a five minute walk stretches to a half hour one. 

 

Teddy pauses in his jumping and shakes his head.

 

“I’ve got a new game,” Harry says, in an attempt to speed up the walk. 

 

“It’s probably not as good,” Teddy says, matter of factly.

 

“Oh yeah? You haven’t even heard it.” 

 

“But I know my games are better,” Teddy says, balancing on one leg in the middle of a puddle. 

 

“Better than living room quidditch?” Harry says, referencing a game they play only when Andromeda is out due to the sheer chaos it causes. 

 

“Fine. Some of your games are good. Tell me.” 

 

“The puddles are dragon lava,” he says, thinking up the rest of the rules as he goes, “and we have to jump over them. “But the dragon drank too much lemonade, and he’s going to burp up way more, so we have to run.” 

 

Teddy leaps out of the puddle and races off ahead. Harry realizes he has shot himself in the foot with this game, as now he has to run. With a sigh, he jogs down the street before he loses Teddy. 

 

“Harry!” Teddy yells, turning around to look at him with a comically fake look of horror on his face. “He’s going to get you.” 

 

“Never!” Harry yells back, running full pelt now. He sweeps Teddy up onto his shoulders and runs the rest of the way to the shop, Teddy shrieking like a velociraptor the entire way. When they collapse, laughing, against the shop window, Harry is filled with a sudden, elated joy. This is it, he thinks, this is why people do it. Teddy is grinning up at him like Harry hung the moon in the goddamn sky and it isn’t cos he saved the world, but just because he is Harry. 

 

The ends of Teddy’s hair are glowing orange with the excitement and they have to duck down an alley until their breathing has slowed down in case and unsuspecting Muggle’s try to find out who his hairdresser is. 

 

For a while, he forgets the Prophet and Draco goddamn Malfoy and the fact that Andromeda is hospital and he pretends that all he has to run from is a make believe dragon. And it is wonderful. 

  
  
  


…

 

“Be honest with me mate, did he Imperio you? Cos I swear to Merlin I will take that son of a-” 

 

“Shut up Ron,” Hermione says. “Let Harry explain.” 

 

No. Don’t let Harry explain. Make something up. Anything up. Dammit why does their friendship not include get out of jail free clauses or something. Harry can feel his face burning already. 

 

“Harry?” Hermione prompts gently. 

 

Oh well. Here comes the dragon. Fuck Malfoy. No. No that is not what he wants to think about because he hates Malfoy and Malfoy is a smirking prat who has screwed everything up monumentally. Hates him. Capital H. Double capital. Merlin his head is a mess. 

 

“I just have to… check on Teddy,” Harry says, making a beeline for Teddy’s room. Hermione grabs him by the collar and sits him down on the sofa. 

 

He drops his head into his hands. 

 

“I don’t know, OK? I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking - I wasn’t thinking. He was saying all this crap about me and Ginny and I just wanted him to shut up,” he stresses the last two words, stretching them out. 

 

“He talked shit about my sister and you… snogged him? Harry. Blimey. What has gotten into you?” 

 

“Ginny did just dump him,” Hermione says. “I mean, if I got pregnant and you ditched me, I’d probably be feeling quite kindly to anyone who insulted you.” 

 

Ron looks outraged and then his face softens into a horribly tender look. Ronald Weasley and romance go together into a combination that only Hermione Granger can tolerate. Just about. 

 

“I would never leave you,” he says seriously. “I’d stay. I would!” he protests, at Hermione’s raised eyebrow. “I’ll prove it.” 

 

“Um,” says Hermione. 

 

“Not now! Harry’s here.” 

 

“Merlin’s pants you two, I’m the one with the baby issues!” 

 

They all sit on the sofa and look at each other for a moment. Then Hermione announces that she is going to make hot chocolate. As she leaves she gives Ron a look that says “behave yourself or there is absolutely no way your sperm is coming near me.” 

 

“Blimey,” Ron says again, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, Harry.” 

 

“I don’t like him,” Harry says. “I really think I hate him. I was going to hit him or something but then there were all these parents and kids and he had this baby…” 

 

“Malfoy’s got a kid?” 

 

Harry shrugs. “Looks that way. And it was so cute, just asleep in his arms and he looked at it like…” 

 

Oh fuck. What is wrong with him. 

 

“Harry,” Ron says seriously. “I’ll be supportive no matter what you answer, but on behalf of Ginny I’ll be pissed if you say yes. Are you gay?” 

 

Harry just shrugs. “I really don’t think I am, Ron. I thought about it and I really do like girls.” 

 

“Oh good,” Ron said, “I’d really have to punch you if you’ve been using my little sister as a beard for four years.” 

 

“Sorry if it’s awkward cos we broke up,” Harry says miserably. “I really do love her.” 

 

“Sometimes we love people more than they love us,” Ron says, in an uncharacteristically profound moment. 

 

“True words, my friend.” 

 

“So,” Ron says. “Old Malfoy then, is he a good snogger?” 

 

“Nah mate. He breathed in my mouth. It was gross.” 

 

They burst into laughter and when Hermione comes back they are almost crying, because really, when you think about it, it’s ridiculous. Harry and Malfoy. 

 

“What are you laughing about?” Hermione says, putting three cream topped hot chocolates down on the table (They have cream. And biscuits. And cake. And basically a cupboard full of things a four year old would choose if they had free reign over the grocery shop. He’s a terrible, terrible parent.) 

 

“Harry’s not gay!” Ron cries, and that is a terrible summary but Harry just rolls onto the floor with a thump. 

 

“I’m not!” he says, triumphant. “I just fucking hate Draco Malfoy.” 

 

“Honestly, you two,” Hermione says, sitting down and sipping her drink. “Have you never heard of bisexuality?” 

 

They both go silent suddenly. And then Ron guffaws again. 

 

“Mione’s got a mustache!” 

 

The cream from her drink has left a small white streak across her upper lip, and to Ron Weasley, this is comedy gold. 

 

It’s like being twelve all over again. They laugh whilst Hermione frowns and they only stop when Teddy pads into the room, clutching a stuffed Hungarian Horntail that Charlie had sent for Teddy’s third birthday. 

 

“You woke me up,” he says, cross with sleep. 

 

“Sorry Ted. Want some hot chocolate?” 

 

Teddy hops up on the sofa beside Hermione and gives Harry a look that reminds him horribly of both Andromeda and McGonagall rolled into one. “You’re rubbish at rules,” he says. 

 

“He really is, isn’t he?” says Hermione. 

 

Teddy shakes his head with disapproval. 

 

“Alright then. I’ll give you rules. Bed right now! No sweets for a month! er… no living room quidditch!” 

 

“Nooooo!” Teddy wails, jumping off the sofa and falling down at Harry’s feet. 

 

Harry laughs. “Hot chocolate then?” 

 

Teddy nods. 

 

“I’ll get the hang of things, Teds. I’m not used to doing the boring stuff with you.” 

 

Soon Teddy is telling Ron and Hermione all about the dragon game and how Harry tried to give him biscuits for breakfast. His cream mustache is significantly bigger than Hermione’s. 

 

…

 

Later that night, Harry lies in bed and thinks of what Hermione said. Bisexual. He did know the word, of course, vaguely. He always thought it was fictional or something, made up for people who couldn’t accept being gay. Bit ignorant really. Hogwarts really, really sucked at sex ed. And the Dursleys weren’t exactly liberal. And he’d been called faggot a few too many times at school by Dudley and his gang and he’d just never really had the chance to contemplate the word seriously. 

 

Bi. Meaning two. Girls and Boys. Huh. 

 

It didn’t mean he liked Malfoy though. He really didn’t. He was a very distasteful human being. He just looked really good holding a baby, all caring and loving. It was an aesthetic thing. And the desire, that was surely subconscious. He hadn’t  _ wanted _ to kiss Malfoy, had he? It just happened. It was probably a rebound thing or something.

 

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about that surprised huff of breath that really, really wasn’t gross at all. 

 

Fuck. Double fuck. Well, he was probably not going to see Malfoy again until they were both shrivelled and grey and then he definitely wouldn’t want to kiss him. Everything is fine, he lied to himself. 

 

And he was maybe bisexual. 

  
And that was fine too. 


	4. Support group - take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes Molly's advice and returns to the support group. It's an interesting experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a pretty long chapter. Enjoy :)

Given that his friends all worked full time and, though very caring, didn’t really understand the time and responsibility involved in caring for a child, Harry spent a lot of time at home with just Teddy over the next few weeks. They went out the park, and to visit Molly and Ron and Hermione, but somehow he felt like his life was lacking. He missed work. He missed the challenge of it, the thrill of it. He wasn’t quite suited to being a stay at home dad. 

 

Andromeda wasn’t doing well. Despite initial plans to visit several times a week, he had dropped down to taking Teddy just once a week. He felt awful for leaving her alone, but it was distressing for Teddy - several times she’d been unable to recognise him. Once she had screamed at Harry when he walked in, apparently terrified, until nurses came and calmed her down. 

 

They didn’t know what was wrong. They’d called in specialists in the effects of mind magic, experts in curses and curses gone wrong. Harry had even considered taking her to a muggle physician. But nothing was slowing down the deterioration of her mind. All they could do was investigate and keep her as calm as possible. 

 

…

 

Teddy was lonely. Wizarding children, unless they had brothers and sisters, often spent a lot of time alone, given that most parents chose to homeschool. They were discouraged from attending muggle primary schools in case of accidental magic - for Teddy, muggle school was absolutely not an option, given that whenever he felt any extreme emotion, positive or negative, his appearance would randomly change to reflect it. It would be some time before he had full control of his metamorphagus abilities.  

 

When he lived with Andromeda, he used to sometimes play with the daughter of a witch who lived not to far away. Unfortunately, the Witch absolutely hated Harry, for reasons he didn’t quite understand but seemed to have something to do with his father, a terrible date, and a badly timed  _ bombarda  _ charm. Teddy didn’t seem to like the girl much anyway - “She smells like ham and she pulls my hair until I make my face look like some muggle boy she says she loves”. So Harry hadn’t attempted to build any bridges there. 

 

The problem was, he didn’t know where to meet other people with kids. If it weren’t for Teddy’s rather hard to explain abilities, he’d let him play with muggle kids. He wasn’t prejudiced. 

 

Every day he regretted his terrible meeting with Malfoy a little more. The support group would have been the perfect way for him to interact with other adults before his mental age reverted to four years old and for Teddy to play with other kids. 

 

He’d looked for another group, but they weren’t exactly a whole lot of them - the only other ones he had found were either way up in Scotland - portkey transport wasn’t exactly that frequent and he couldn’t apparate with Teddy - or a group for new mothers and somehow he didn’t think Teddy or him would enjoy an hour surrounded by hormonal witches and screaming babies. 

 

…

 

He sits at Molly’s table eating cake, watching Teddy stalk a garden gnome through the window. He hadn’t been bitten yet and so he wouldn’t stop playing, even though Harry had warned him over and over about what nasty creatures they were. Tears would inevitably occur before long, but for the meantime, Harry enjoyed a moment of peace.

 

He’d always liked Molly Weasley, but he’d never really  _ related  _ to her before. She belonged in a strange and distant world of motherhood and household charms that seemed impossibly far away from Harry. Now however, she was telling him all about this charm that was absolutely perfect for getting spaghetti stains out of white shirts and Harry was listening with rapt interest. Laundry had become the bane of his life - he’d never known how many clothes a child got through; as a kid, he’d always been super careful not to damage or dirty anything as the Dursley’s only permitted him to wash his one spare outfit once a week. They said anything more was a waste of laundry powder. 

 

“How’s Ginny doing?” Harry asked once Molly had finished demonstrating her spell. He’d not heard from her since she walked out of their apartment and it stung. They’d not exactly parted on the best of terms, but he’d hoped for something, anything.

 

Molly’s lips go tight. 

 

“My daughter is fine,” she says. 

 

“I’m really sorry we broke up,” Harry says, thinking Mrs Weasley is mad at him. “But I swear, it wasn’t my fault, I -” 

 

“It’s not you I’m disappointed in, Harry dear,” she says, waving away his apologies. “It’s my daughter. Honestly, I hoped I’d brought her up better than that. No loyalty.”

 

“Molly,” he says, trying to find the words to explain, “Don’t be mad at her. It wasn’t right for her. I’d have hated her to stay and feel trapped.” 

 

“Well she could have at least owled you,” she said. “After all those years you were together, she could have made sure you were doing OK.” 

 

Harry sighs and slumps on the table. “I just want her to be happy,” he says. “If she needs to cut all contact with me for that, then that’s fine.” 

 

Mrs Weasley looks like she disagrees, but she promises to tell her that Harry wishes her well next time they speak. 

 

“Do you know anyone with kids Teddy’s age?” Harry asks suddenly. “I think he’s a bit lonely, spending all his time at home with me.” 

 

Mrs Weasley thinks. “I can’t think of anyone of the top of my head. Most of the witches I know have grown up kids and I know some of them have children, but I’m not sure of the ages. I can ask around. What about that support group?” 

 

Harry groans. “You saw the paper,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” Molly says. “Teddy is his cousin, you know. From what I hear, he doesn’t have much contact with his family these days.” 

 

Harry tries to quell his interest, but Molly is a goldmine of gossip when it comes to the wizarding world, and ever since he saw Malfoy and his kid, a plague of questions have been buzzing around his head. 

 

“Really? I thought Lucius and Narcissa doted on him.” 

 

“I don’t know the specifics, I’m afraid,” Molly says. “They’ve always been a secretive bunch. And I don’t much feel like poking my nose anywhere near that family. All I know is that his marriage to Astoria went bad and it caused a lot of tension.” 

 

“Huh,” Harry says, wondering if he should say something nasty about Malfoy just to make extra sure Mrs Weasley knows he hates Malfoy. 

 

What could he have done to piss his parents off that much though? Knowing their values, it could only be something Harry would approve of, honestly. 

 

Then he thinks of looking at Malfoy, now that he knows what his hair feels like, loose and tickling his face as he pressed their lips together. His face burns at the prospect. Confusion is holding court over Harry for the time being, and he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. 

 

But he does know he’s probably going to have to go to that support group, because no one he knows really understands what his life is like right now, and some cruel part of himself wants him to work out what the fuck possessed him to kiss Draco Malfoy. And another part - a primitive part far out of his control, he tells himself - can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe all he needs is to go back and remind himself what an absolute turd Malfoy is and it will all be put to rest. Then he can pal up with some nice witch who has a kid Teddy will get along with and he can moan about the joys of single parenting and it will all be fine. Yes. Good solution, he tells himself, and pats himself on the back mentally. 

 

He’s taking Teddy with him though. Just to make absolutely sure that he keeps his interactions with Malfoy strictly PG. 

 

…

 

He is late. Again. How the fuck did he save the world when he can’t even get out of the door on time. Seriously. It wasn’t even like he was rushed. He got up with an hour to spare in case Teddy had a crisis over what to wear (he was vain) and there was no crisis. They had milk and cereal in the house. They made it to the portkey on time. 

 

Yet here they were, everyone else already sat down in groups. They were sat around tables this time, in groups of three or four, drinking cheap coffee and gossiping whilst children ran around shrieking. 

 

Only one table had any obvious space. It was occupied by the lone figure of Draco Malfoy, sat with his head bent, child in his arms. He was tense, uncomfortable, a shadow in an otherwise light room. 

 

Why did he go to a support group if he spoke to no one? For the first time, Harry considered what it must be like for Malfoy, post war. His family name was essentially dirt, in all circles of wizarding society. Many of the people here had been victims of Voldemort, and he was a known death eater. Why was he putting himself through it? 

 

Harry knew he could probably sit at any of the tables and he’d be welcomed. He was Harry Potter, after all, and generally people were only too happy to oblige him and his wishes. It kind of pissed him off, to be honest. 

 

Teddy pulled at his hand. 

 

“Why are you staring at that man?” 

 

Harry blinked and looked down at his godson. “Sorry, Ted. Where do you want to sit?” 

 

“I want to play,” Teddy says, as though Harry has lost most of his mental faculties. He’s not wrong, really, Harry thinks dryly. “But that man looks sad. Sit by him.” 

 

Well. He supposed that decided it then. Harry sometimes forgot that Teddy knew nothing of the war, held none of the prejudices everyone of his generation held. He just saw someone sad, and his natural instinct was to be nice to them. 

 

“OK,” Harry says, and they walk over to Malfoy. Harry can feel his heart pounding and he hopes that Malfoy has enough decency to not hex him in front of his godson. 

 

When he pulls out a chair, Malfoy looks up. There is a brief flash of hope on his face that turns to a glare when he sees who it is. His lips become a thin line and he shifts, holding his child more securely against his chest. Ouch, Harry thinks. He decides he really needs to change his attitude if Malfoy thinks he would hurt a kid. 

 

“Hi,” Harry says, and he cringes at how supremely awkward he feels. His embarrassment is enough to eclipse the usual rage he feels towards Malfoy for the moment. When Malfoy’s frown only deepens, Harry tries to remember that Malfoy is in the same position as he is, probably worse. One look at the bags under his eyes, stark purple against his pale skin confirm that he is barely sleeping. 

 

Teddy hops up onto the seat beside Harry and rests his chin on his hands.

 

Malfoy says nothing. 

 

“You know,” says Teddy, matter of fact as always, “Andromeda says it’s rude not to say hello.” 

 

Harry sees Malfoy’s eyes widen in shock as he realizes he is sat face to face with his cousin. He swallows, and forces his features into a smile that is really more of a grimace, but Harry gives him kudos for trying. 

 

“Hello,” Malfoy says, and holds out his hand, mirroring his action towards Harry from so many years ago. “I’m Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you.” 

 

Teddy kneels on his seat and shakes Malfoy’s hand politely. Then he sits back down and fixes Malfoy with a glare. 

 

“My granny says Malfoy’s are a bad lot,” he begins. Malfoy’s eyes widen comically. “Harry kissed you, but he was mad about it. I don’t know if I like you.” 

 

A startled laugh escapes Malfoy’s pursed lips and the sound is so surprising that Harry laughs too. Teddy is an … interesting child. A combination of Remus’ and Tonks’ genes have led to him being rather precocious, very intelligent, and quite free with his opinions. 

 

“I don’t know if I like you either,” Malfoy says, smiling. He ignores Harry for the moment, and Harry is OK with that. Teddy looks absolutely outraged. 

 

“I’m nice!” he says. 

 

“I might be too,” says Malfoy. 

 

“What’s the baby called?” Teddy says instead, peering at the bundle in Malfoy’s arms with curiosity on his face. 

 

“This is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,” Malfoy says. Scorpius opens one eye and and looks at Teddy. Then he goes back to sleep. 

 

“That’s a silly name. My names Edward, but Harry calls me Teddy. I think you should call Scorpius…. Scorpy.” 

 

“Teddy,” Harry says, deciding to intervene before Teddy says something truly rude. “You can’t just change people’s names.” 

 

“You decided we should call Maude “Mold” after I said she pulled my hair,” Teddy says. Maude is the ham girl. Harry realizes that without Andromeda to guide Teddy, he should probably try and be a better role model. 

 

“Well that was mean of me and I’m very sorry.” 

 

“No you’re not. I’m going to play now. Bye Scorpy,” Teddy peers at the baby and Harry is worried he’s going to poke it or something, but he just waves and runs off, introducing himself to some other kids quite happily. Definitely more of Tonks’ genes when it comes to socialising. Harry can’t picture a young (or old) Remus ever happily introducing himself to anyone, really. 

 

And then it is just Harry, Malfoy and a baby. Malfoy’s smile fades now that Teddy has gone, and Harry realizes he is kind of sorry to see it go. The last few minutes have shown a new side to a man Harry has only ever seen as a two dimensional person. 

 

Harry clears his throat awkwardly and Malfoy raises an eyebrow in a way that instantly makes Harry feel embarrassed. It’s always just been emotion with him, no composure, no rationality. Which is fine for a rivalry between school boys, even if they took it to a level that was kind of ridiculous. But between two grown me, it is acutely uncomfortable, to sit here as though they are strangers when they know each others worst flaws so intimately. 

 

It’s like sitting opposite your ex, Harry thinks, sitting opposite them and pretending you don’t remember what they look like naked and blissful. It’s the opposite and yet it’s the closest description he can find and it makes everything so much worse because his stupid mind is thinking about Draco and wondering about an alternate world where that is the story - that they are here facing each other after a torrid high school affair and not seven years of mindless hatred. 

 

Funny how the heart is so easily swayed between love and hate, he thinks.

 

“Potter. I realize you clearly have some unresolved feelings towards me, but it’s really not appropriate to stare like that. There are children present.” 

 

Harry closes his mouth abruptly, feeling a blush bloom across his cheeks, hot and humiliating. Malfoy smirks. Harry wants to come up with some witty comeback but his brain is not cooperating and Malfoy’s smirk only grows as the seconds past. 

 

“Shut up,” he says finally. “I don’t… want that.” 

 

Malfoy just grins broadly, in his element. Absurdly, Harry realizes the happiest he has ever seen Malfoy is when he is insulting him. 

 

“Look,” Harry says. “The other day-” 

 

“Potter, please don’t make me relive it. Move on,” Draco says smoothly. “‘I’ve not been able to be this horrible to someone in more months than I can count. Let me enjoy it without bringing your sexual confusion into the mix.” 

 

“I’m not confused-” 

 

“So you are telling me you were absolutely certain of what you were doing when you  _ kissed  _ me in front of a room full of people? Because I would love to hear your thought processes behind that.” 

 

“You said forget it!” Harry said hotly. 

 

“You know what? I think this is more fun. Is it because I’m just so gorgeous? I have been told I’m quite irresistible…” 

 

“Ugh,” Harry says. “I’d almost forgotten what an arrogant twat you are.” 

 

Malfoy smiles serenely. “I do my best, Potter.” 

 

“Well it’s not working. I’m not mad. I’m calm as… a calm thing,” he finishes lamely. 

 

“Oh, look at Potter, all hot and bothered cos he has a crush. How embarrassing.” 

 

“Look, you obnoxious, blonde, posh twat. I would never have a crush on you.” 

 

“Aha. Then it’s purely physical. What’s this do for you Potter?” Malfoy stretches luxuriously, so that his shirt tightens across his chest and his throat is exposed, long and pale. 

 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He needs a thesaurus of swearwords just for Malfoy. Stupid, annoying, horrible, beautiful Draco fucking Malfoy. That’s enough fucks. He swallows and looks away. 

 

Malfoy straightens, looking supremely pleased with himself until he looks at Harry’s flushed face. His expression flickers before his smirk settles back across his features. 

 

Harry doesn’t know where the conversation would have gone if it weren’t for the return of Teddy, another girl in tow, and Scorpius waking up from Malfoy’s movement. Scorpius fusses and Malfoy shushes him. Harry focuses on Teddy, ignoring the tenderness that changes Malfoy’s sharp features into something softer. 

 

“Harry, this is Maegan. We’re friends.” 

 

“Hello Maegan,” Harry says, turning his attention to Teddy and his friend, a girl of about three or four years, dark skinned, wild haired and grinning wildly. 

 

“You’re Harry Potter,” she says. 

 

“I am,” he says. He can practically  _ feel  _ Malfoy’s smirk. 

 

“Mummy says you are a hero. She says I’m safe because of you.” 

 

Harry smiles at the little girl. “I had a lot of help,” he says. 

 

“She says you fought a dragon once.” 

 

“I tricked it,” Harry says. 

 

“Anyway, once you’ve stopped bragging,” Teddy says, clearly unimpressed at having his limelight stolen by Harry, “Maegan wants to know if she can come to our house.” 

 

Maegan nods and smiles hopefully. 

 

“Well. I’d need to speak to your mother,” he said. Crap. Arranging playdates for four year olds? He was so out of his depth. 

 

A woman walks over and Harry recognizes her as Alicia Spinnet, someone who used to play on the Gryffindor team. She was a few years ahead of him in Hogwarts. 

 

“Alicia,” he says, grinning. “How’re you?” 

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me!” she says, smiling. 

 

“Of course. You were in the DA - your patronus is a sparrow.” He doesn’t mention the battle of Hogwarts. He remembers her fighting alongside a lot of his friends.

 

“So, who is this?” she asks, smiling at Teddy. 

 

“Teddy Lupin. Professor Lupin’s son,” he says. Teddy gives her a grin. 

 

“Well, I see you’ve already met Maegan.” 

 

“Mummy, can I play at Teddy’s? He says he has dragons.” 

 

“Toy dragons,” Harry clarifies. 

 

“Hey! They roar and everything!” Teddy says. 

 

“It’s fine with me,” Harry says. 

 

“Well I’ll check the diary and Owl you later,” she says with a smile. “Maegan has a doctor’s appointment this week though.” 

 

“Got an extra toe,” Maegan says glumly. 

 

“And why is that?” Alicia says. 

 

Maegan pouts. “Cos I grew it when you said I had to cut my nails.” 

 

Harry winces. Accidental magic can cause all kinds of strange things. Harry is glad he hasn’t had too many mishaps with Teddy. 

 

“Well, we have to go now. I’ll be in touch.” 

 

“Bye Alicia, Maegan,” Harry says. Teddy watches them leave. 

 

“How soon can they come? We’ve got a game already.”

 

“Patience, Ted. Come on, it’s nearly time to go.” 

 

Malfoy is still sat at the table, shushing Scorpius. He’s stopped crying now, only letting out the odd whimper. 

 

“Well,” Harry says awkwardly. “Bye Malfoy.” 

 

Malfoy looks up. “See you, Potty. It was fun insulting you.” 

 

Harry resists the urge to stick his tongue out like a child, opting instead to simply leave. 

 

It had been fun, in a strange kind of way, he supposed. 

 

He found himself looking forward to next week. What the hell was he playing at? He didn’t know where the hell this was going but he didn’t kid himself into trying to stop it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. A gift from Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda makes her feelings about Malfoy clear, whilst Harry's are anything but. Teddy gets a present.

 

St Mungo’s had always made Harry uncomfortable - it was a last resort. No one stayed in hospital long enough to be visited unless it was incredibly serious. Most people were able to cure common ailments and illnesses at home. Save for visiting Andromeda, the last time he was here was during the war. It brought back memories - that horrible, all consuming guilt that had filled him when he came to see Arthur. Even though it was a place of healing, it was always going to feel a little toxic to Harry.

It’s a Saturday, and Teddy is with Ron and Hermione for the morning. Andromeda is receiving the results of another round of tests, and she’d asked if Harry would come.

As he pushes through the doors into the ward for mind magic related ailments, the familiar feeling of worry fills him. She isn’t getting any better. Every day he wonders if she will recognize him still, if she will be herself. Somedays she does. Somedays she is a stranger, clothed in a shadow of Andromeda’s self.

He’d never thought of Andromeda as a small woman, but her bed looks too big for her. She sits in the middle, fully dressed atop the sheets. She couldn’t abide people who sat in bed all day, and even when though she is ill she makes a point of getting up anyway, even just to sit still.

“Harry,” she greets him with a weak smile. He sits in the visitors chair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Except for the times when my mind betrays me.”

“Any news?”

She sighs. “It’s probably not reversible. They are looking for a way to slow it down, but they told me not to get my hopes up.”

“Oh, Andromeda,” Harry says, and he wants to run. He hates this. Hates it more than he has words for. He’s never been good at sympathy - he’s always fought, fought everything, even when the odds were stacked against him. He has never been forced to sit beside someone who is suffering, and simply empathize without doing anything. He’s never come to terms with the fact that even he can’t save people from their own mortality.

“How is Teddy?” she asks instead of staying on the subject.

“Fine,” he says with a smile. “He’s made a friend. Maegan Spinnet, Alicia Spinnet’s daughter.”

Andromeda frowns, trying to place the name.

“Rings a bell. I don’t know the family well though. Obviously they weren’t on good terms with mother and father when I was young.”

“They seem nice. The father was killed by one of Voldemort’s rogue supporters after the end of the war - he was attacked at work. He was a healer, specialised in treating and memory wiping muggles who’d been affected by magic.”

For a year or two after the war, occasional attacks like this had broken out. It had taken some time to track down all of Voldemort’s followers, and some of the more fanatic ones had carried out attacks in his name. It had all died down now. Just your average dark wizards to fight these days.

“I’m glad he’s making friends,” she says. “How are you going to teach him?”

Harry sighs. “I’m not sure yet. Molly’s offered to teach him - she taught all her lot to read and write and they got by OK. I want him to learn more about the world than that though - learn about some muggle stuff as well.”

“I was going to get him a tutor,” she says. “Remus was so clever… and he is so much like his parents. He’ll need someone who can challenge him.”

Harry realizes with a sinking feeling that Andromeda is talking as though she won't be there much longer, as though this is permanent. And whilst part of him is very aware that that might be true, saying it out loud, admitting that this is the end, makes it seem horribly real and hopeless.

“I met Draco Malfoy at this support group,” Harry says. Is it always going to be like this? The pair of them changing subjects and dancing around the important things? Probably. Sometimes denial is the only way to cope.

Andromeda chuckles. “I do get the paper in here, you know.”

Harry groans. The Prophet had caught wind of their second meeting and now there was a daily column dedicated to gossip on whether he and Malfoy were having a secret affair. People liked and hated the idea in equal measures. Hermione had informed him that Witch Weekly had coined the term “Drarry” and that just made him shudder.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Harry says miserably. “He’s awful. I just thought, you know, he’s your nephew and you might like to know.”

“I don’t like to know about much that my sister gets up to,” Andromeda says, quite forcefully.

“You heard he had a baby though,” Harry says. Why is he pushing this conversation?

“Only when the Prophet published it.”

Harry breathes in before he asks the next question. “Do you ever think about… about trying to fix things with your sister?”

Andromeda glares at him. “Do you ever think about trying to fix things with the Dursleys?”

“They locked me in a cupboard!”

“And would you be interested in what Dudley’s kids are up to?”

Harry sighs. “Fine. I just thought… maybe..”

“Harry, I don’t know what is going on with you and this Malfoy boy, but I want no part in it. And I don’t think Teddy should have anything to do with him either.”

“But they’re…”

“He is my grandson. He is in your care. Please respect my wishes. That family is no good for anyone, especially not Teddy.”

Harry nods. He leaves soon after, and though he kisses Andromeda on the cheek, something feels wrong between them.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t believe that Malfoy would ever do anything to harm Teddy. He knows Malfoy is terrible for him, Harry, but for Teddy - well, Harry just knows that if he’d had any other living family when he was growing up, he’d have wanted to know them.

 

…

 

An owl knocks against the window of Harry’s kitchen until he opens the window. He doesn’t recognize the bird - it’s a sleek bird, with dark, glossy feathers and a strong, sharp beak. He doesn’t know who could have sent it - he recognizes the owls of all his friends and family, and it isn’t one of the Ministry’s standard tawny owls. 

He lets the bird hop across his counter and drop the parcel it is carrying. There is a note attached to the brown parcel paper. There are just a few lines of writing, in a neat, curling script that Harry recognizes from school.

What on earth could Malfoy be sending him? Harry casts a few detection charms to check for dark magic, just in case. You can’t be too careful when it comes to Malfoys.

Then he reads the note.

_ Potter, _

_ Don’t mistake this gift as a peace offering. I dislike you with a great intensity. However, I must admit that I was… charmed by my cousin, Teddy. I have very few family members left that I am on speaking terms with, and I should like to maintain some relationship with him, if it’s all the same to you. _

_ I don’t ask for much. Only that you allow him to accept birthday cards and such from me. This gift is to make up for the four I have missed. I hope he likes it - it is a relic from my own childhood. _

_ Yours, _

_ Draco Malfoy. _

 

Harry picks up the parcel. Teddy’s name is printed on the front, in a version of Malfoy’s script that is slightly more legible. Probably for Teddy’s benefit. Harry sits down at the table and wonders what to do - should he open it first and make sure it is suitable? Hide it away, like Andromeda would wish him to do? 

But he remembers the Dursley’s keeping his letter from him, and how angry that made him. And he knows how angry he gets if anyone lies to him. He values the truth, and he wants to instill that same value in Teddy.

In this instance, he believes Andromeda is wrong. Until Malfoy shows any sign of hostility to Teddy, he will give him a chance.

But maybe he should be more wary. Malfoy used to be one of the biggest assholes Harry knew, without question of competition. He was toxic to the bone, corrupt in his morals and principles, but also nasty on the surface - petty and vindictive, jealous and unpleasant just for the sake of it. He had been arrogant, a snob, not above cheating or using his status to get what he wanted. Harry remembered lying awake at school, blood pounding in his ears as he raged about the things Malfoy had said and done.

But that was years ago. Harry would hate it if someone assumed he was the same person he had been in school. He’d been far from perfect - quick to condemn and judge, hotheaded, arrogant and inconsiderate. He’d rushed into situations without thought for his safety or the wishes of others.

And it was he who had rejected Malfoy’s initial offer of friendship, all those years ago. He had rejected Malfoy in front of his friends and humiliated him. It didn’t excuse much, and he stood by his decision, but maybe, well, maybe everyone deserved a second chance after the war.

Internal wrestling match over, Harry called Teddy into the kitchen.

“Yes?” Teddy asks, curious. Harry doesn’t normally call for him without reason.

“Post for you, Teds,” He says, offering the parcel.

“Post! Who from?”

“Mr Malfoy.”

“The man from the group? The one you kissed?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Will you forget about that?”

“I can’t. It’s just too gross.” 

“Because he is a man?” Harry asks, concerned.

Teddy looks at him like he is stupid. “Because it’s kissing.”

Harry laughs. “OK.”

“Can I open it then?”

“Yes. Come on, I want to see what it is.”

Teddy peels the paper off carefully, placing it on the table. Inside is a small black box. Teddy opens it and gasps. He turns the box to Harry.

Inside, curled on the velvet lining, is a tiny, sleeping dragon. Harry recognizes it as model similar to the one he was given for the triwizard tournament - a tiny version of a real thing, not alive but appearing  so.

“What type is it?” Teddy says, peering at it.

Harry looks closely. The dark green scales and long, golden horns mark it out as a Romanian Longhorn. He’d become rather adept at identifying dragons when he had had a brief and embarrassing crush on Charlie Weasley. He hadn’t known it was a crush at the time, of course. He had simply believed he thought Charlie was exceptionally cool, with his horntail tattoo and muscles and scars and rugged appearance.

Now though, he realizes the truth. Hopefully Ginny never noticed his interest in her brother, or if she did, she thought nothing of it. He had only been seventeen at the time, and very confused. They hadn’t yet got back together then either. He just hopes Charlie never noticed. That would be embarrassing.

“Harry,” Teddy says, looking slightly impatient. “Do you know? If you don’t I could ask Mr Malfoy.”

“I think it’s a Romanian Longhorn.”

Harry taps the dragon with his wand and it wakes up, yawning and puffing out smoke. Harry hopes it’s flames aren’t actually capable of setting things on fire. It lets out a small roar and fixes it’s tiny golden eyes on Teddy. Teddy claps his hands in delight.

“It’s waaay better than my other ones! They hardly move and they are rubbish at flying.”

“I told you I sucked at charms, Ted. You should have got Hermione to enchant them.”

“One day I’ll be so good at charms that I’ll be able to make a real dragon!” Teddy declares ambitiously. Harry just smiles.

“What are you going to call him? Malfoy said it was his toy when he was younger.”

“Then I’ll ask him it’s name.”

Harry is struck by the image of Malfoy as a child, small and blond and laughing as he chases the dragon around the room. He wonders what Malfoy would name a toy. Given that he named his son Scorpius Hyperion, he reckons it would probably be awful.

It’s getting harder and harder to match the Malfoy he knew with the one he is seeing today, even though the two treat him exactly the same. Malfoy might be trying to hide it from him, but he has changed.

“Harry? Because Mr Malfoy sent me a present, can we send Scorpy a present?”

“His name is Scorpius, Teds.”

“I like Scorpy. Can we?”

“I suppose so. What do you think babies like?”

Teddy shrugs. “Cake maybe?”

Harry laughs and resolves to ask Hermione for advice. Four year olds might have an answer to everything, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it is a good one. 


	6. Thank you's and accidental compliments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to hate someone when they are bouncing a kid on their knee and telling you the name of their childhood toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter and please do let me know what you think - I love all feedback. :)

  
  
“Is it time to go yet?” Teddy asks, for probably the tenth time in as many minutes. He is sat at the table, squirming with excitement.

“Not till you’ve finished your lunch,” Harry says. Teddy sighs dramatically and eats another square of his toast. Harry doesn’t normally bother with lunch - his work schedule doesn’t always allow for regular breaks and he forgets to eat if he isn’t reminded. Teddy’s presence has changed that. He needs to find some new recipes - beans on toast and cheese sandwiches are getting boring.

Teddy’s hair is flashing different colors.

“Will he like it?”

“Yes. I’m sure Scorpius will love the rabbit.”

“I love the rabbit. So he will. Babies love all things soft.”

Harry looks at his godson, wondering what goes through his head on a daily basis. He was surprised when Teddy had announced that he was going to give Scorpius one of his old toys, but he really shouldn’t have been. Teddy might be snarky and cheeky and full of mischief, but he was also one of the kindest children Harry had met.

“I’m finished! Time to go!”

“OK, OK! Get your shoes then.”

Teddy sticks his leg in the air, showing Harry a booted foot.

“Wellies? It’s not raining.”

“But,” Teddy says, tone philosophical, “It might.”

 

…

Malfoy is sat in his usual spot. Scorpius is awake this time though, sitting on the table, Malfoy’s hand supporting his back as he looks around the room with curious eyes. Harry wonders how old he is.

Teddy runs to the table and hugs Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe and his mouth falls open in shock. Harry has to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he sits down opposite his old nemesis.

“Morning,” he says, just managing to conceal his smirk.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Teddy says, over and over without pause.

“Teddy, please let go of Mr Malfoy’s leg.”

Teddy does so and beams up at Malfoy. “I need to know what the dragon’s name is.”

“So you got it?” Malfoy asked, looking slightly surprised. Harry is abruptly glad that he hadn’t withheld the gift.

Teddy nods.

“His name is,” Malfoy looks down at the table, pink dusting his cheekbones. “Tamolth the fierce. Tam for short.”

It’s not a particularly embarrassing name for a childhood toy, as far as Harry knows, but maybe it’s simply sharing a part of his past that shows a different side of him that is making him blush. Some part of Harry - the sneaky, rebellious part that does things like kiss his enemies without permission - notes that Malfoy looks rather attractive when he blushes.

Another part of him tries to think of an insult.

The final part, the diplomatic part that deals with the press and such, tells him to control himself. Insulting Malfoy when he is being perfectly nice - more than nice actually - would just be rude and unnecessary.

“I got Scorpy a present, to say thank you,” Teddy says, proffering his rabbit. “It’s called Borgle.”

Teddy made up the names of all his toys, and to say they were strange would be an understatement.

“Thank you, Teddy,” Malfoy said. Harry isn’t familiar with Malfoy’s tones of voice outside of angry, livid, and sneering amusement, but he thinks he sounds touched. He places the toy beside Scorpius, who doesn’t pay it much attention, being, as most babies are, more interested in his toes. 

“Does he like it?” Teddy asks, anxiety plain on his face. Malfoy smiles down at him.

“I think so, yes. I think he’ll keep it for a very long time.”

“I’ll keep Tamolth forever,” Teddy says solemnly. “Now I have to play with Maegan. I promised her.”

Once again, Teddy leaves and Harry is suddenly entirely unsure of how to act. He needs another book. “How to befriend your enemy because parenthood has messed with your head and now you think he’s kind of hot 101”

Harry doubts that this book exists, somehow. If he gets through this, he’ll write one. For all those other poor, idiotic souls who have no control over their feelings.

“Andromeda doesn’t want you to have anything to do with Teddy,” Harry blurts eventually, once the silence has stretched to breaking point. Damn it. Great way to build bridges. Why does he lack basic conversational skills?

Malfoy raises an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration. He takes Scorpius onto his lap and bounces him up and down and oh crap, why does he do that? How can he sneer and yet look so soft and...caring at the same time? How can someone so sharp look so...homely?

Something is seriously wrong with me, Harry thinks miserably. Seriously wrong.

“But I disagree. And I am Teddy’s guardian for the foreseeable future, so I have decided to grant you your wish.”

“Fancy yourself as a genie, do you Potter?”

So much for honesty and politeness. “No. Just a reasonable person willing to give someone a chance,” Harry replies coolly. “Provided they are equally reasonable.”

Malfoy doesn’t have a quick comeback for that.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, like it pains him. Harry says nothing. Unbelievably, it’s gotten more awkward. It’s difficult to respond to honesty when it’s mixed with so much resentment.

Maybe the only way forward is a little more honesty.

“I… I know what it’s like to not really have any family. And I know if I had other relatives, I’d have wanted to know about them. So as long as you treat Teddy well, I’m willing to allow you contact with him.”

“Against my dear aunt’s wishes?”

“Against her wishes. Andromeda is bitter, bitter in the way older people are - she’s built up resentment for too long to change her ways easily.”

“Is she well?” Malfoy asks suddenly, seemingly realizing that there must be some reason that Harry is caring for Teddy.

“No. She isn’t.”

“Then I send her my regards, though it may be better if you don’t pass them on. Wouldn’t want to give her a heart attack or anything.”

Now he can’t even tell if Malfoy is being a twat or if he is being genuine. His face is almost expressionless. So he just nods, and lets the silence fall again. Questions buzz through his mind about Malfoy and his situation, his curiosity stronger now that Malfoy knows his story, or at least part of it. But he doesn’t want to ask. Not yet.

“Your hair looks stupid, Potter. Have I ever told you that?” 

As insults go, it’s pretty feeble. But it’s familiar territory and Harry is glad to have his feet back on solid ground. He never thought he’d feel grateful to Malfoy for insulting him, but here he is.

“Once or twice,” Harry says, quite cheerfully. “It’s got nothing on your poncy ‘do though.”

Malfoy sneers. “You wouldn’t know good taste if it hit you in the face.”

“Clearly not. You’ve punched me many a time, and I still dress like shit.”

Oh merlin, Harry thinks dully. That didn’t quite work. He just accidentally complimented Malfoy. Fuck. Oh he is hopeless. Utterly useless.

A slow smirk spreads across Malfoy’s face. “Why thank you, Potter. I’d almost forgotten how much you liked me.”

“You,” Harry says slowly, “Are an absolute tosser. And for your information, that shirt looks terrible. It’s not your colour.”

“It’s white,” Malfoy says. “How can white not be someone’s colour?”

“Makes you look...milky.” 

“You like milk. You used to drink it for breakfast every day. Two glasses if a quidditch match was coming up.”

Now it’s Malfoy’s turn for alarm to pass over his features.

“Stalker, are we Malfoy?”

“Merely things I noted whilst watching my back.”

Harry grins. “Sure thing,” he says, smirk mirroring Malfoy’s. Malfoy just rolls his eyes and stands up with Scorpius.

“Nappy change,” he says. And Harry just knows it is an excuse.

 

…

 

“How was support group?” Hermione asks. Ron looks up from his paperwork with interest. 

“Oh, you know, quite boring,” Harry says.

“No way,” says Ron. “You aren’t getting off that lightly. Witch Weekly came out yesterday and word is Drarry is stronger than ever.”

“You read Witch Weekly?” Harry says, trying to embarrass Ron off the subject. Ron blushes but stands his ground.

“Oh, come off it Harry. Ginny was always telling me how you nicked her copy to read in the loo,” Hermione says.

OK so maybe that was true. But anyone would be lying if they said there wasn’t something a little compelling about reading gossip and slightly disturbing true stories. Plus, they had some really handy little spells in their household section.

“Fine! fine. Sorry Ron, for insulting your masculinity.” 

“No problem. So, about Drarry…”

“Ron,” Hermione says. “You know that magazine is full of rubbish.”

“Will you please stop saying that...word,” Harry says with a shudder. “Nothing is going on. He’s Teddy’s cousin - or second cousin or whatever. He gave him a present and we were just thanking him.”

Ron looks sceptical. So does Hermione, actually.

Harry holds up his hands. “I do not fancy Draco Malfoy! I swear!”

Thank god Teddy is asleep.

“We believe you Harry. We’re just concerned that, what with your break up and recent bisexual revelation, that you might end up a little...confused.”

“Yeah. Last time you and Ginny went through a rough patch you couldn’t take your eyes off Charlie,” Ron buts in.

“Ron!” Harry exclaims, trying to seem shocked but unable to stop the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“It’s alright mate, everyone fancies Charlie a bit. Except me of course, cos he’s my brother and that.”

“He is quite attractive,” Hermione adds. Ron elbows her in the ribs. “But a right hag in comparison to you, Ronald, of course.” 

“Aw, come on Hermione, now I know you’re lying. No one could call Charlie a hag.”

Hermione kisses him to shut him up and Harry averts his eyes. He’s quite used to Ron and Hermione being together, but he’s never got used to the pda.

“We just don’t want you to end up having some weird rebound thing with Malfoy,” Hermione says. “Especially if Teddy likes him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Maybe it’s defensiveness, but anger bubbles up inside of him, trying to push cruel words from his mouth. He bites his lip.

“Nothing. Is. Going. On,” he grits out, enunciating each word carefully. Hermione flinches a little and guilt floods him.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione. It’s just with the media and everything. It’s getting on my nerves. We aren’t even friendly.” 

Hermione nods and changes the topic of conversation, telling him all about work and what a pain in the ass the head of the department for the welfare of magical creatures is - she’s been lobbying them for months and they still won’t call a meeting to discuss her proposed amendments to the house elf bill of rights. It’s a tirade he has heard many times, and will no doubt hear many more.

“Cannon’s are gonna win on Friday,” Ron says. “I can feel it. Their new seeker - Wilnew - she’s gonna turn the team around.”

“What kind of a name is Wilnew?” Hermione says. She’s not a cannons fan. Actually, flying being one of the few things Hermione is not good at, she mostly resents the sport in general.

“A better one than Scorpius Hyperion,” Harry mutters. That really is a silly name. He’d rather call his kid Borgle than Scorpius Hyperion.

“What was that, Harry?” Hermione asks.

“Nothing,” Harry sits at the table beside Ron, twirling his wand around his fingers and trying to shake thoughts of Malfoy from his head.

“Hey, did Malfoy stare at me a lot at school?” he asks suddenly. The curiosity is killing him.

Hermione and Ron exchange a glance.

“You two always stared at each other, Mate,” Ron says. “It was a bit weird actually."

"I only stared cos I hated him!"

"I hated him too, mate. That's why I avoided looking at his ugly mug. Why d'you ask?"

“Just something he said,” Harry says, resting his chin on the table. Hermione just pats him on the shoulder like she knows what is in his head. Which she probably does. She’s very perceptive.

“Firewhiskey, Harry?” Ron asks, holding up a bottle of the amber liquid.

“Better not. Gotta get Teds home,” he says. Ron looks a bit glum. Harry feels it.

“I’ll babysit next friday,” Hermione says suddenly. “You guys can go out and then you can stay here, Harry. It’ll do the pair of you good.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry says, surprised. Normally she goes out with them - she’s never been a great believer in male bonding, and they are always happy to have her. But right now, he’s too mixed up to drink with Hermione. There is no telling what secrets would fall out.

Hermione smiles. “I’ve acquired some books I’ve been meaning to read with him,” she says. 

“You do know he is four, right?” Ron says.

“Perfect age to start reading. Actually, a bit late if I’m perfectly honest, but I’m sure the damage is reversible.”

Friday is going to be a great day for everyone, Harry thinks, except maybe Teddy. Hermione’s idea of a good book for a beginner reader is probably Hogwarts: A history or some other such tome. 


	7. unknown motivations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Malfoy try a little honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo this chapter is a bit more serious because I can't write them insulting each other at a parent/child group forever... even though I want to. Let me know what you think :)

The Prophet is getting on his nerves. This isn’t unusual - the Prophet is almost always getting on his nerves, whether he is in it’s good graces or it’s bad ones. He has never quite figured out where the Prophet stands, politically. It seems to take the side of public opinion, which means it can be really liberal, or really obnoxious, depending on the issue. 

 

They’ve gone with obnoxious for their latest tirade - the Prophet loves to report on two things - Harry Potter, and Scandals. If they can work both into one, even better. 

 

As Harry looks down at the copy in his hands - featuring the headline “ **Poofter Potter defects to the dark side”** and a crudely edited picture of him and Malfoy from school, he wonders how the Prophet is ever taken seriously. The article goes on to question his loyalties to the light side of magic (like killing Voldemort wasn’t enough) and to Ginny, suggesting he is a cheat. 

 

Years and years of being in the public eye, and it still riles him up. He’s not sure which is worse; the Prophet’s aggression or Witch Weekly’s blatant fetishization of his love life. 

 

He doesn’t even have a love life anymore. He goes to bed at nine pm and spends most of his time talking to a four year old. His long time girlfriend has ditched him for her career and he is sexually confused and lusting after longtime rival. The media trying to dissect his life and decisions is really fucking annoying when he doesn’t even understand them himself. 

 

Harry sits at the kitchen table with a sigh, hunching over a mug of bad coffee - it’s a sad thing in life when you love coffee but are shit at making it - and looking around the kitchen. The dishes need doing, and the bin needs emptying, and the fridge is pretty much empty. There just doesn’t seem to be enough  _ time  _ at the moment. He’d thought it would be easy, given that Teddy was four and quite capable of entertaining himself for a decent length of time and he had taken time off work. But it isn’t. It just isn’t. 

 

Pinpointing one struggle isn’t easy. He’s just overwhelmed with a sensation of things being hard - hard because he is worried about Andromeda, worried he’s messing things up with Teddy, worried he is ignoring his friends, worried he’s neglecting his duty as an auror, sad about Ginny, confused about Malfoy (not to mention guilty about being attracted to Malfoy so soon after Ginny.)

 

Basically being in his brain is like sailing the ocean in a very small teacup with a lot of cracks in it and he’s just doing his best to hold Teddy above the waves. 

 

Maybe it’s not as bad as all that, but today it feels like it. Probably because it’s cold and it’s raining and he has a million and one boring responsibilities to attend to. 

 

…

 

The auror office is demanding a date for him to return to work. But that means he needs to find someone to look after Teddy during the day and frequently during the night as well. He has the least child friendly career possible. Damn wizards and their useless child care schemes. Maybe he can set something up with the other parents at the support group? But he doesn’t want Teddy to bounce between people. He needs some routine or he will be absolutely wild. 

 

He adds it to his list of things to attend to and gets up to make Teddy breakfast. 

 

…

 

Some horrible conspiracy of the universe has left Harry and Malfoy alone, save for a sleeping Scorpius. Teddy has left support group with Maegan and Alicia for the afternoon, having caught an earlier portkey with them. Harry is to floo over after tea. 

 

Everyone else has left via their various methods of transport and Malfoy is just… standing there, watching him, against the wall of the small community hall they meet in.

 

“Haven’t you got somewhere to be?” Harry says, leaning against the wall beside him. 

 

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” Malfoy said. 

 

Harry swallowed, his mind going to all kinds of places, some involving Malfoy hexing him and kicking his body into an alley, most involving Malfoy grabbing him by the hair and snogging him stupid. Both of which are equally terrible. Obviously. 

 

“To hex me?” Harry finally manages. 

 

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’ve given your godson gifts and put up with you assaulting me with your nasty, chapped lips just so I can lure you away and kill you. I’ve not changed at all.” 

 

“Well,” Harry says. 

 

“Potter, I have a son. A son who is, believe it or not, better off with me than any of his other relatives. I’m also a Malfoy, and my name is dirt these days. If I so much as raise a finger to you, the ministry will kick my ass into azkaban before I could even disarm you.” 

 

There’s a strange intensity to Malfoy’s words, as though they have been building in him. They are spat out, bitter and resentful, like his anger has been simmering for years and now he can’t stop it from boiling over. Which it has, Harry knows, but somehow he thought that their hatred for one another was more of a facade than anything else these days. 

 

But maybe that is just him and his stupid brain. Malfoy doesn’t look like he wants anything more than to punch him right now. 

 

“If you could though…” 

 

“What is going on here?” Malfoy says bluntly. “I don’t have time to be played by you, Potter. My life is a fucking mess. What is your motive?” 

 

Harry stares at him. Does the whole world, including Malfoy, think he wants nothing more than to get in his pants? 

 

“Motive? I…” 

 

“You show up, unannounced, after four years of silence, and you kiss me. I’m not OK with that, Potter. You’ve dragged my name back into the papers and my life back into the public eye, and I don’t need it. What do you want?” 

 

He’s angry. How had he hid it so well, for the last meetings? Why hadn’t he said something? Harry had never considered how Malfoy might be feeling about the media’s sudden interest in him - it hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Harry said quietly. “I didn’t… I didn’t plan it or anything.” 

 

“Plan it? Of course you didn’t plan it, Potter. When have you ever been a planner?” 

 

Harry shrugs, because it’s a fair point really. 

 

“I don’t have an ulterior motive here, Malfoy. I don’t even… I don’t know what’s going on. I just know Teddy likes you and I… I feel like you’re different now.” 

 

Malfoy just stares at him, and Harry can’t read his face, can’t pick any emotion out of the line of his jaw or the set of his lips. He’s never been good at reading people, magically or non magically. 

 

After a minute of silence, Harry speaks again, just to break it. “What do you want then? Why are you… why are you being nice?” 

 

Malfoy arches one perfect brow. “Nice?” he says, incredulous. 

 

“Nice to Teddy.” 

 

“Because he’s a kid. And he’s family. Until I am forced to, I don’t turn my back on family.” 

 

Harry closes his eyes and draws in a breath. “And were you forced to?” 

 

“What are you asking, Potter? Be careful. If you start caring about my life, well. That’s new territory.” 

 

“Just… why are you alone, Malfoy?” he asks. His eyes are still closed because if he looks at Malfoy the moment will shatter between them like glass and they’ll be at each other’s throats again. He can feel the tension coiled up in, old anger determined not to leave him just yet, fingernails digging into his palms. 

 

“Not yet, Potter. Not yet.” 

 

Harry’s eyes fly open, anger flooding him. “How come you can expect answers to your questions? How can anything change if you won’t… if you won’t reevaluate your opinion of me?”

 

“Who says I want change?” Malfoy says coolly, standing straighter. 

 

And that hurts enough to surprise him. 

 

“You do though,” Harry says, suddenly sure of himself. “I know when you don’t want to talk to someone. I remember fifth year, Malfoy. The one year where you truly avoided me. That… if you didn’t want something more you’d be like that. Silent. Avoiding. Malicious to the extreme.”

 

“When have I ever been anything but that?” 

 

“You were always horrible, Malfoy. But you always wanted my attention - that’s why you goaded me so much. Like if you couldn’t be my friend, you’d be as annoying as possible instead.” 

 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,” Malfoy says, and Harry can hear the sneer in his voice but it falters a little and he knows he is getting somewhere. 

 

“I remember that day on the train, you know. Your face when I wouldn’t shake your hand. I saw your expression change from hope to hate. Maybe… maybe it’s not irreversible.” Where is all of this coming from? What is he even trying to achieve? But it’s too late to stop now. 

 

“We fought on different sides of a fucking war, Potter. I harboured the thing that murdered your parents in  _ my home _ , for Merlin’s sake.” 

 

“And you saved my life, Malfoy. You looked me in the eye and you lied to Voldemort.” 

 

He hears Malfoy shudder at the name and he risks opening his eyes and looking at the man beside him. Malfoy is staring straight ahead and his eyes shine slightly as he bites down on his lip, cheeks flushed, small signifiers of emotion rendering him more human than Harry has ever seen him. 

 

He feels like he is intruding by looking, and he closes his eyes before Malfoy notices his stare. 

 

“You saved my life too.” 

 

“Only after.” 

 

“Don’t kid yourself that it was from debt, Potter. You’re just that noble.” 

 

“Then what is your excuse?” Harry challenged. 

 

“Probably,” Malfoy says slowly, “It’s rather a lot like how you kissed me. And… you were my only hope of things changing.” 

 

Harry chooses to save Malfoy’s change in politics for another day. “Your wand worked for me,” Harry says quietly. “It… saved my life on more than one occasion.” 

 

“Even my own possessions would rather pledge allegiance to the great Harry Potter,” he says, a defensive edge to his voice. 

 

“You know it’s more than that,” Harry says, and he thinks he’s really trying to tell Malfoy that they are more than what they thought, connected by more than hatred. 

 

Malfoy exhales slowly. 

 

“I think that’s enough conversation for one afternoon, Potter.” 

 

Harry feels his heart sink, but he doesn’t push it. When he opens his eyes, Malfoy is looking at him intently, eyes grey and clear, shimmer gone. Harry sucks in a breath and digs his fingernails a little deeper into his palms. He doesn’t want to step away, doesn’t want to stretch the elasticity of this strange new tension to breaking point. They stand for a moment, just looking at one another. There is more curiosity than animosity in Malfoy’s expression now. 

 

“Goodbye, Potter,” Malfoy says smoothly, bending to pick Scorpius’s carrier up from the floor. His son is still fast asleep, face innocent, unbothered by his father’s scars and words of war. 

 

“Bye Draco,” Harry murmurs softly, turning and apparating before he can see the impact of his last risk on Malfoy’s face. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. An offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds a possible childminder, Draco forgets he is supposed to be an asshole and Teddy and Maegan face a moral dillema.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I write a lot of dialogue and this is more of that but you know it is what it is. I have lots of ideas now for the next chapters though and I am very excited. Enjoy :) (Please feel free to comment as always)

Draco. He had never used Malfoy’s first name by itself. Not even in his head. It was a small change, really, but it seemed significant, a representation of the way Harry’s view of him was changing, like the space he takes up in his head is a different shape; softer round the edges.

 

What was his motivation? Why did he keep speaking to him? 

 

The first answer was simple - Teddy liked him. But that didn’t explain the want he was feeling, the curiosity urging him forward. He didn’t know this new Draco, not yet. But he was sure that he was different from the old one. And he wanted to  _ know  _ him. 

 

Maybe that was some of it: Maybe more of it was the way he smiled at his son, or the way his shirt fit across his chest, hinting at the lean body beneath. Maybe it was the way his eyebrow raised in a perfect arch. Maybe it was just that Draco Malfoy was fucking beautiful, now matter how ugly his insides were. 

 

And Harry’s never been much good at resisting beautiful things. 

 

…

 

“Again? What do I have to do to get rid of you, Potter?” Draco says, and Harry would be hurt but he thinks at least a part of him is joking. So he sits opposite him as usual. 

 

Scorpius is sat on the floor beside them, alternating between playing with his toes and gumming a bit of rusk, which is a sticky, mushy mess by now. Draco picks it up with a grimace and exchanges it for a wooden block that Scorpius promptly shoves in his mouth. 

 

“How old is he?” Harry asks, realizing he has no clue. He is not good at guessing babies ages. 

 

“Eight months,” Draco says. “Should be crawling soon. That’ll be fun.”

 

“I...have you been alone all this time?” 

 

“Oh sod off, Potter. I’m not talking to you if you are going to look at me with such pity.” 

 

Impossible. He is impossible. Every time they approach something close to civility, he has to draw back and be an asshole. 

 

“Must have been hard, is all.” 

 

“Not has hard as enduring your company.” 

 

“Bugger off then, if you want.” 

 

“I was here first.” 

 

“Will you make your mind up, Malfoy,” Harry says. 

 

“About what?” 

 

“About me.” 

 

“Do you want to know what I think of you, Potter? Do you really?” 

 

“No. I want to know if you’re going to give me a chance. Then I want to know what you think.” 

 

“Have you ever considered that me tolerating your presence is a chance?” Draco says softly, the meaning carried not so much in the words but in the tone of his voice. Something twinges inside Harry and he has to bite his lip to keep from grinning. 

 

To say his feelings towards Draco were confused would be an understatement. 

 

“OK. A game, then,” Harry says. “Truth for a truth.” 

 

“You think I’m that stupid, Potter?” 

 

“It’s fair,” Harry says. 

 

“No it isn’t. You are good. Your worst truth is better than my best.” 

 

“Then how-” 

 

“Not here. Not now. I’m not getting into the past with you here.” 

 

“When?” 

 

“We’ll see,” Draco says, and maybe he means it, maybe he doesn’t. Harry’s taking it as a promise. 

 

“New topic then,” Harry says. “I’m not spending another hour trading insults.” 

 

“Why are you making such an effort today?” Draco says, a little sulkily. He ignores Harry for a moment whilst he tickles Scorpius. When he looks at Harry again, the grin hasn’t quite faded from his face. 

 

“Why not?” he says. 

 

“Really? Oh, let me think -” 

 

“Shut up. Just shut up. We both know we don’t hate each other the way we used to.” 

 

“Maybe I hate you more,” Draco mutters under his breath. 

 

“Come off it. Now, childcare.”

 

“Ugh. You know, I liked you better when you hated me. At least there was some decent tension. Childcare? What are we, a couple of mother hens?” 

 

“Well, actually,” Harry says. 

 

“What of it?” 

 

“I need someone to care for Teddy when I return to work. I was wondering if you had any suggestions?” 

 

Draco laughs, a short snort of amusement and self depreciation, hinting at self loathing hidden beneath the arrogance and snark. “Yeah, I’ll just put you in touch with a few rabid purebloods and and ex death eaters.” 

 

“Well what about Scorpius?” 

 

“I look after him.” 

 

“All the time?” 

 

“I’m a Malfoy, Potter. It’s not like I need to work - Mother might be giving me the silent treatment these days, but she’s hardly going to let me starve.” 

 

Harry sighs. “I can’t find anyone to do it. I can’t advertise - there’s too many people who’d try and use him to get to me. And…” Harry realizes he is rambling, a little too openly, in front of Draco. 

 

“I could do it,” Draco says suddenly, looking like he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. He looks down at his hands. 

 

“You?” He doesn’t mean it to sound so accusatory, but it was just about the last thing he expected. “Why?” 

 

Draco shrugs. “He’s family. I like kids. I have ample free time.” 

 

“He needs tutoring.” 

 

Draco scoffs. “Come on Potter, you saw me in school. I’m intellectually gifted. I think I can manage a four year old.” 

 

“I’m not sure you’d be a good teacher,” Harry says.

 

“Is this about my teaching? Or is it who I am? Because if you are concerned, I actually have a degree in English and primary education.” 

 

Harry frowns. But..

 

“A muggle degree, Potter. Oh, shut up. It’s not like I could keep studying or get a job in the wizarding world after the war - both sides hate me. I was bored. So I went to a muggle university and studied.” 

 

That is just baffling on so many levels. “Why education?”

 

“Turns out a Hogwarts education doesn’t lead on to too many degrees. I quite like the sound of chemistry but when they heard I didn’t know what an atom was, they refused me a place. Rude, I know.” 

 

“What the hell, Malfoy.” 

 

Draco looks offended. “What? I thought you’d be happy.” 

 

“You don’t know what an atom is? Merlin, our society is backward sometimes.” 

 

“Yeah well, you didn’t know what quidditch was,” Draco says with a sniff. 

 

“I grew up in a fucking cupboard!” 

 

“There are brooms in cupboards!” Draco retorts. Then he pauses. “Wait? Really? What the hell - those fucking Muggles -” 

 

“Leave it,” Harry says quietly. “It slipped out. I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Teddy then?” Draco asks, moving on without blinking. Harry fills with sudden gratitude. The old Malfoy would never have let something like that go so easily - Harry used to dread him somehow finding out about the Dursleys. 

 

Harry thinks about what Draco is offering. He seems genuine - his face is carefully blank once more, concealing any trace of hope. He wouldn’t have brought it back up if he wasn’t serious though. Andromeda would never allow it. She’d probably hex him. Come to think of it, Molly would be next in line. And for all Ron and Hermione’s teasing, they probably wouldn’t be terribly accepting either. 

 

The Prophet would love it.

 

“I… I don’t know.” 

 

“You don’t trust me,” Draco says simply. “Perfectly understandable. I’ll take veritaserum, if it would ease your nerves.” 

 

“I’ll get back to you,” Harry says eventually. “I’d need to discuss it with Teddy.” 

 

“Of course,” Draco says, even though he surely knows that Harry is going to go and discuss it with his friends. “Feel free to owl your reply before next week, if it is convenient.” 

 

“I feel wary when you are polite,” Harry says, Draco’s manners and charm incongruent with his expectations of the man. 

 

“Can’t make your mind up, Potter? Nothing new there, is there. You can’t even work out who you fancy, caught between genders. Really, it’s a wonder you’ve made it this far,” Draco says, putting on an exaggerated sneer. Harry would laugh, but his mind is stuck on a few of Draco’s words. 

 

“Do you really think you have to choose?” he asks. 

 

Draco shrugs. “It was a joke, Potter.” 

 

“But do you?” 

 

“Honestly? It is of very little interest to me who other people choose to sleep with.” 

 

“People?” Harry asks, the word choice seeming odd. 

 

“Witches, wizards, Merlin what clarification do you need?” 

 

“Just… seems odd that you’d say people, given that you were insulting me. It would be logical to say “I don’t care who  _ you  _ sleep with.””

 

“You sound like an english teacher. Please refrain from analysing my word choice. It is of little bearing to the conversation at hand.”

 

“You know, Draco,” Harry says, finding some confidence, “The more uncomfortable you are, the posher you sound.” 

 

Draco huffs. 

 

“So, my conclusion is that you do care. A little bit.” 

 

“Mere concern for other citizens who may fall prey to your horrible kissing skills.” 

 

“My skills! You… you breathed right into my mouth!” 

 

“I was surprised. I was minding my own business and then suddenly this great big pair of wet lips are all over me like some kind of sea creature. You’re lucky I didn’t scream.” 

 

“You’re remembering it all wrong,” Harry says, a little insulted. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

 

“Enjoy it, did you, Potter? Weasley must have been awful in bed, if that’s the case.” 

 

Harry is about to reply with something nasty, probably too nasty, when Teddy appears with Maegan. Harry realizes he should probably pay more attention to Teddy than Draco, but Teddy is a decent, well mannered child who doesn’t  _ drive him insane.  _

 

“It’s Maegan’s birthday on Saturday,” Teddy announces. “Can I go?” 

 

Maegan looks up at him and grins toothily. 

 

“If it’s OK with her Mother,” Harry says. 

 

“The important thing is a present,” Teddy says, serious. He doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of a surprise, and discusses his ideas in front of his friend. It’s quite a good scheme actually - Maegan firmly tells him no to most of his ideas (Including: a garden gnome, a toad, and a huge bucket of mud.) 

 

“We’ll have to think of a surprise then, won’t we?” Harry says, hoping he can persuade Teddy around to a more reasonable idea - he likes to give gifts, but like most four year olds, he likes to give gifts of the the things he wants. Harry has a feeling Teddy’s next birthday is going to be something of a let down. 

 

“I have an idea for a gift,” Draco says, surprising Harry by speaking when other people are present, even if they are only four. 

 

Maegan turns and fixes her eyes on Draco. “Mummy says not to speak to you because you are a bad man,” she says, like it is taking all her courage. Then she glares at him. It would be funny, except for the way Draco’s face falls and closes off. Like he’s beating himself up for forgetting, just for a second, his misplaced allegiances. 

 

“He’s not bad,” Teddy says. “He’s nice.” 

 

“Mummy says though.” 

 

“I like him.” 

 

Maegan looks at Teddy in horror. 

 

“You can’t like bad people! That… that makes you bad!” 

 

“I’m not bad! The only bad thing I do is sometimes I get up really early and sometimes wear muddy wellies inside.” 

 

It’s somewhat entertaining, watching a four year old face a moral dilemma. Maegan screws up her face, debating internally. 

 

“Mummy says I shouldn’t speak to him,” she says sadly, and without saying anything else, she runs over to Alicia, who is sat talking to a couple of other parents in the corner. 

 

Teddy climbs onto Harry’s knee, a sign that he is upset by recent events. 

 

“Why do people think you’re bad?” he asks Draco. Draco sighs and takes Scorpius onto his knee - the baby is tired by now, and curls against Draco’s chest, falling asleep quickly. 

 

“I made some mistakes when I was younger,” he says at last. 

 

“Some people aren’t very good at forgiving,” Harry says, trying to explain. 

 

“Do you forgive him?” Teddy asks. 

 

Harry wonders what to say to that. He’s still just working out how Draco has changed, working out what made him do the things he did. He’s on the way to deciding on whether forgiveness is an option, but he isn’t quite there yet. 

 

“I’m working on it,” he says at last, but he looks at Draco when he speaks instead of his Godson. 

 

“I forgive you!” Teddy says seriously. “Does that mean I’m bad now?” 

 

“No, Teds,” Harry says. “Definitely not.” 

 

“Do you think Maegan will let me go to her birthday?” 

 

Harry sighs. “I’ll talk to her Mother,” he promises. He wishes he could say he was shocked by Alicia, but her attitude was all too prevalent in their society - she, like the majority of the population, had been a victim of the war. It was worse for her, because her husband died after; died when there should have been peace. So he can see why she’d be distrusting. 

 

However, he doesn’t want Teddy around anyone that is going to pass on old prejudices.

 

“Time for us to go, I think,” Harry says to Teddy. “We need to stop at the shops on the way home, remember?” 

 

“Milk, eggs and bread! I remembered you!”

 

“Reminded me,” Harry corrects with a smile. “Well done.” 

 

He notices Draco smiling at them, trying to hide it by turning his face. He feels his cheeks warm a little. 

 

“Say bye to Mr Malfoy, Ted.” 

 

“Bye!” Teddy says. “Can I hug Scorpy?” 

 

Draco nods and Teddy slides to the floor, running round the other side of the table. Very gently, he wraps his arms around Scorpius and kisses him on the nose. Then he jumps back, scandalized. 

 

“He got his spit on me!” 

 

Harry laughs at the look of horror on his Godson’s face. Draco grins as well, and holds Scorpius out to Teddy. Teddy raises his arms in defence. 

 

“I love Scorpy,” he says finally. “But from far away.” 

 

“Send that owl, Potter,” Draco says. “I mean it.” 

  
Harry nods and bends down to let Teddy jump on his back. He wonders if Draco is ever going to use his first name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that the lines are really spaced out - my word processor and a03 don't get along very well - if it bothers any one, let me know. If not, I'll leave it because honestly it takes forever to get rid of the extra spaces. Hope you liked the chapter :)


	9. Those you don't revolve around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's all too easy to forget the world doesn't revolve around you - or, Harry listens to a friend in need and deals with parent politics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so a couple of things here: 1 - I hope you enjoy this chapter. 2 - what are your thoughts on the odd chapter from Draco's pov? Cos I'm considering it. That was only really one thing of importance. But you know, a list is always good. :)

Over the next few days, Harry carries out a somewhat awkward conversation via owl with Alicia Spinnet, who wrote to him saying that Maegan had come to her crying that Teddy was evil now. Harry explained as politely as he could what Maegan had said. 

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ I apologise for any distress caused to Teddy. He is of course welcome on Saturday - he is a lovely child.  _

 

_ However, I meant what I said to Maegan - I do not want her around Malfoy. He was a nasty piece of work in school and he seems to have only gotten worse - he’s been going to those meetings for months now and he never speaks to anyone, just broods in the corner.  _

 

_ I don’t trust him, and honestly I think it is quite irresponsible of you to allow Teddy near him. I’m surprised he’s even been allowed to keep that baby.  _

 

_ I am aware this sounds cynical, but you should know where I’m coming from better than anyone - it does not hurt to be careful. I have to voice my opinion because I firmly believe honesty is the best policy.  _

 

_ I am sorry if this causes you offence in any way,  _

 

_ I do hope our friendship can continue,  _

 

_ Yours,  _

 

_ Alicia.  _

 

Initially, he feels simply anger at her criticising his parenting, but then he calms down - she’s not the first to say it, and she won’t be the last. Hell, he’d be lying if he said the same thoughts hadn’t crossed his own mind - they are still lingering now, a nagging, insidious self doubt. 

 

He can see her viewpoint for everything else. He can also see that it is reasonable. He is aware that he is the controversial one here. But if he didn’t let Teddy near anyone who hated the Malfoy’s, the kid would grow up alone. 

 

So he pens a reply. 

 

_ Alicia,  _

 

_ Thank you for your letter. I see and sympathize with your point - some scars will take a long time to heal, and I can see why it’s difficult to let go of old opinions.  _

 

_ Malfoy may be an absolute twat, but he is also one of Teddy’s only living relatives. I am giving him a chance for that reason only - and I’d like you to be aware that I am a trained auror - should anything happen - which I’m confident it won’t - I am more than  a match for him.  _

 

_ I would be sorry to lose you as a friend, so can we agree to put this behind us?  _

 

_ Teddy is desperate to see Maegan again,  _

 

_ Yours,  _

 

_ Harry.  _

 

He hopes Malfoy doesn’t throw this back in his face - he’s invested enough into moving their relationship forward that uncovering some nefarious plot would probably really fuck him up. 

 

…

 

“You’re not going to say yes are you, Harry?” Hermione says, shocked. She looks at his face for a moment. “You’re actually considering it! Harry, I really don’t think -” 

 

“I know what you think, Hermione. And Ron. And every other person who takes an interest in my life. Even Molly - and she’s the one who suggested I give him a chance.” 

 

“But it’s Malfoy!” 

 

“He’s different now, Hermione. I think… I think it’d be good for him. You know he spends all his time alone? Just with Scorpius?” 

 

“You know, a few weeks ago you’d have killed him if he went near Teddy.” 

 

“And that would have been because I was a prejudiced asshole who didn’t extend my belief that people change to Malfoy,” Harry says calmly. “I’ve not decided anything yet, Hermione. I haven’t forgiven him yet, and I certainly don’t trust him fully - but I’m considering it.” 

 

“But...why?” Hermione says, wrinkling her nose. 

 

And he can’t very well tell her it’s because his heart beats fucking double time when Draco laughs or because he’s actually kind of worried about his former enemy and the lack of apparent social interaction he gets. 

 

“Teddy likes him. He likes Teddy. I don’t have many other options.” 

 

“Teddy likes Molly.” 

 

“You know he went to a muggle university? Did a degree?” 

 

Hermione’s bushy eyebrows migrate up her forehead. 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Said he couldn’t go back to Hogwarts after the war and no one would employ him, so he studied education and english to stave of boredom.” 

 

“He could have gone back,” Hermione said. 

 

“Yeah, if he had a death wish, Hermione. He only escaped azkaban by the skin of his teeth.” 

 

They sit in silence for a moment, caught up in memory. 

 

“He really was an arsehole, Harry,” she says finally. 

 

“I know, Hermione.” 

 

“You’re sure this isn’t cos of Ginny? If she’d of stayed with you -” 

 

“This wouldn’t be happening? I’d hope it wouldn’t.” 

 

“So you have feelings for him, then?” 

 

Harry groans. “That’s not what I said, Hermione. I… I don’t know, OK? I’m just letting things play out. How are you, anyway? I’ve been so caught up in my life recently…” 

 

Hermione shrugs. “Ron’s been working a lot,” she says. Simple words, but her voice comes out small. 

 

“But… you guys are OK, right?” he says. 

 

“Probably. Don’t worry about us, Harry.” 

 

“Hermione, I have to worry about you. I’m your best friend.” 

 

“And you’re Ron’s. I - we’re fine, honest.” 

 

Harry rests his chin on his hands and looks at his friend. Hermione has a way of always looking slightly harassed, maybe because she always has so much to do, but now he looks, he sees a slight wariness beneath her smile. 

 

“Hermione,” he says, taking her hand. “What is wrong? Talk to me.” 

 

“You don’t need any more problems, Harry,” she says, pulling her hand away and making tea. 

 

“You’re not a problem, Hermione. You know that.” 

 

“I know,” she says, then, “Ron wants kids.” 

 

Harry pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. 

 

“You don’t?” 

 

Hermione shrugs. “I suppose I do, eventually. But - I’d say you don’t understand, but you do now, with it just being you - Ron can have kids and still have his career. He can take a few weeks paternity leave and get on with life. But…” 

 

“It’d set you back,” Harry says softly. 

 

“I want to make a difference - I’m finally getting somewhere. People are listening. If I stop, even for a few months..” 

 

“It’ll be back to square one?” 

 

“And Ron just doesn’t see that! You guys - your job has straightforward results. It’s directly important. He just doesn’t  _ get  _ what I’m doing. I don’t think… I don’t think he thinks it is important,” she says, voice wavering a little. Harry gets up and puts his arms around her. She turns her face into his neck, wild hair tickling his cheek. 

 

“He’ll understand, if you want to wait,” Harry says. 

 

Hermione just shakes her head and sniffles. 

 

“He… I worry sometimes, that we aren’t meant to be,” she whispers. “That I should have ended up with someone else. I always thought I’d be with someone assured, confident, intelligent. Ron - he’s so different from me, Harry.” 

 

“I think that’s what makes you work, ‘mione. You’d be bored with someone like you. Ron makes you laugh, he loves you and he isn’t threatened by what you do because he works in something so different. He is intelligent - he’s an excellent auror - just in a different way to you. You challenge each other to work on your shortcomings.” 

 

Hermione looks up at him, eyes rimmed with red. 

 

“Ever think it should have been us?” she says. 

 

Harry grins at his friend. “Only once, you know. When it was just us in the tent, when Ron buggered off for pie and chips or whatever it was he wanted. I thought about it for about two seconds until I saw how you sat at the door, pretending to be on watch but really you were waiting for him.” 

 

“Ron used to worry about that, you know,” she says. “He told me once, when he was drunk. That he was scared I’d leave him for you.” 

 

“I know. The horcrux showed him us.” 

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 

 

“I thought you and Ginny would be forever,” she says softly. “I’m sorry you aren’t.” 

 

“So am I. But hey, my new love interest is a villain. That keeps life exciting.” 

 

“I knew you fancied him,” she says, shaking her head. 

 

“I’ve got terrible taste, ‘mione. It’s why I’d never fall for you.” 

 

“I do love Ron,” she says. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“It’s just… we’re not a perfect match. I love him enough for that not to matter, mostly.”

 

“He’ll understand, Hermione.” 

 

“Thanks, Harry,” she says. 

 

“Hey, what are friends for?” 

 

Hermione grins. “So… are you going to say yes to Malfoy?” 

 

“Merlin, you make it sound as if we’re getting married. It’s just a job.” 

 

“Of course, Harry, of course.” 

 

“Should I though?” 

 

“I think you should think about it awhile longer.” 

 

…

 

Harry is lying on the couch whilst Teddy lies on the floor beside him, head propped up on one of the three spare cushions Harry has in his apartment. A copy of James and the Giant Peach in his hand, Harry reads aloud whilst Teddy fidgets. 

 

The local muggle library, along with Sainsbury’s, is one of the few muggle places they visit together - Teddy loves to be read to, but Harry has found wizarding fiction a little lacklustre. The thing with being surrounded by magic and strange creatures is that a lot of wizards imaginations are actually slightly stunted. Ron knows tons of amazing stories for kids because they have been passed down through his family - not so many are written, bound and published though, with the exception of the tales of Beedle the bard. 

 

Hermione has told him that a new genre is emerging (she likes to keep up with all things book related) that consists of contemporary wizarding fiction written by muggle borns, but he isn’t so sure it’s appropriate for Teddy - so every week or so they go and take out a stack of books to work through. 

 

He actually wishes he had looked beyond the cover of this book, because James’ aunts remind him horribly of the Dursleys, but he tries to ignore the memories that brings up and instead adlibs as he reads, making James ridicule his aunts excessively in his head. Teddy seems to enjoy it. 

 

Harry is enjoying reading as well, on the whole. He used to sneak books from the school library to read in his cupboard until Vernon found out and wrote to the school asking that they ban Harry “Because he is a messy eater and he doesn’t want to pay the fines”. He’d read plenty at hogwarts, but textbooks don’t really count. 

 

Teddy yawns on the floor and Harry peers over the edge of the seat. 

 

“Ready for bed?” he asks. 

 

Teddy opens his eyes with some effort. 

 

“No,” he mumbles, and it is one of the cutest things Harry has ever seen. He scoops him up and carries him to his bedroom. 

 

“Thirsty, Ted?” he asks. Teddy shakes his head. 

 

“Need the toilet?” 

 

“Not tired…” Teddy grumbles, sitting up. “I want to know what happens next.” 

 

“How about you lie down and I’ll read a bit more? Then if you fall asleep I don’t need to wake you up.” 

 

“Harry?” Teddy says, very quiet. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“When’s granny going to be better?” 

 

Harry’s heart twists in his chest and he sits on the bed beside Teddy, wrapping an arm around him. “I don’t know, Teds. She is very sick. We’re doing all right though, aren’t we?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Want to visit at the weekend? We can make her a card if you like.” 

 

Teddy nods. “I’ll draw Tamolth on it.” 

 

Harry smiles, wondering if he needs to tell Teddy not to mention Draco. Too complicated - he’ll just have to deal with any questions as diplomatically as he can. 

 

“Can you say what Granny says before bed?” he asks. 

 

“What does she say?” 

 

“Night night, don’t let the billywigs bite” 

 

Harry chuckles. “OK. Night night, don’t let the billywigs bite. More story?” 

 

“No talking after night night” Teddy says, in the tone of voice he reserves for when he thinks Harry is being an idiot, curling under his covers, hungarian horntail tucked under one arm and Tamolth curled on his pillow, snoring softly. 


	10. in the minds of your enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Draco's life. Spoiler - he is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow (er) update - life happened this week. Enjoy :)

It is 3 am and Draco is sat in bed, Scorpius in his arms, finally quiet after screaming for the past hour and a half. Exhaustion has made lead weights of his eyelids, but he doesn’t dare move for fear of waking his son, and he doesn’t dare fall asleep for fear for crushing him, so he sits and stares at the plain white wall of his bedroom. 

 

Oddly, the thought that drifts through his mind is that he should really get a painting or something. He is a man of good taste and he can’t even decorate a bedroom. He considers transfiguring something, but his wand is too far away and he can’t move his arm anyway. 

 

If he believed in a god, he’d be writing him a letter of complaint. Why the ever loving fuck do children need to  _ grow  _ their teeth? Seriously it’s like a giant “fuck you” for bothering to reproduce. Oh, you want to continue the human race? What about now, huh? Still want to leave a legacy? 

 

Scorpius looks ridiculously cute when he is asleep - soft lashes just brush the skin of his cheek, his fist is clenched around Draco’s finger, his head tucked into the crook of his elbow, a smile on the neat bow of his lips. 

 

But Draco would be lying if he said it wasn’t hard. It’s been eight months now - eight months of sleepless nights and lonely days, broken up only by trips out to buy food and the obligatory once monthly visit home. His mother didn’t have the heart to kick him out, so to save her conscience she meets with him for an hour on the last Sunday of the month. 

 

She had never asked to hold Scorpius. 

 

Draco reaches for his book, lying face down, spine cracked, amongst the used mugs and tea stained rings of his bedside table. He resigns himself to another night awake. He’s never slept easily - once he is woken up, that is pretty much it. But he’s so used to running on low batteries that he isn’t sure he remembers what it feels like to not be tired anyway. 

 

His mind won’t focus though, drifting as it often does to Harry, back the first time he he saw him, walking awkwardly into the room, cheeks flaming, sitting beside him without thinking. 

 

Back to Harry’s flushed face and his fist in Draco’s hair, lips crushing against his own. 

 

That was the first time Draco had been kissed since before his divorce. Harry was only the third person to ever touch lips to him, and it had been electric and confusing as hell and he still doesn’t know whether to be angry or aroused by it. 

 

Maybe both. 

 

Not that he has time to be aroused in his life. 

 

…

 

The thing with looking after a baby, full time, all alone, is that life gets more than a little boring. When he had been studying for his degree, he had mainly got by without using magic and had dabbled in the world of muggle technology. He missed tv. Wizarding radio during the daytime left a lot to be desired, though there were a few things worth listening to - a once weekly program about a dragon conservation project in Romania (Charlie Weasley may be a Weasley, but Draco had to give him points for his commentary skills.) and the live reports of the quidditch leagues. Beyond that it was pretty dry stuff. 

  
  


Now though, he couldn’t imagine trying to get all the laundry done without cleaning charms, or the house tidy without the aid of his wand. Plus Scorpius is prone to the odd magical outburst whilst having a temper tantrum, which would inevitably lead to the shorting of every fuse in the house. 

 

So he reads one handed, and dictates crossword answers to his self inking quill whilst he changes Scorpius’ nappy, and he reads Witch Weekly cover to cover. He’s even subscribed to the Quibbler these days. 

 

It’s only been a day since support group, and Draco is going out of his mind waiting for Harry’s reply. He didn’t know how much he wanted something to change in his life until he made the offer - and now it seems of paramount importance that Harry accepts. 

 

Because then he will be  _ doing  _ something. Caring for Teddy will go someway towards making amends for the fact that he spent years on the side responsible for the death of both his parents. 

 

At the memory of Lupin and Tonks’ death, his mind brings up images of them laid out in the hall, their eyes seeming to stare at him, even through carefully closed lids. Those bodies lay there like an accusation, and the mere thought of it causes guilt to snake through him, dark and greasy, like an oil slick on his heart. 

 

When the guilt hits, he wishes Scorpius wasn’t his, scared that he will taint his innocent son somehow, ruin him like Draco himself was ruined before he even had a chance. But he can’t blame his father for all of it. 

 

He wants to step out of his skin and be something else. Maybe Harry will let him be that. 

 

And maybe Teddy will grow up and learn what Draco did and shun him. Draco’s heart twists at the thought of Teddy’s grinning face twisted into an angry glare. Fuck. What had he been thinking? As if Harry would let him care for his child? This is what happens when he lets his heart take over, even for a second. This is what happens when he gives into want. Idiot. 

 

And now he has to wait for that rejection in writing, because Harry freaking Potter is too decent a human being to outright reject him. Why had he gone back to that group after that disastrous kiss? He should have stayed away. Stayed in the shadows where he belonged, not tried to be something more, something new. 

 

Draco lies down beside his sleeping son and stares into space, trying desperately to avoid thoughts of green eyes, and his own feelings of worthlessness. 

 

He can’t afford to get lost in himself anymore. He has to be OK and functioning, even if he is numb. No more lost days: he has to be there for Scorpius. 

 

Sometimes, his son is the only thing that stops him losing himself completely. 

 

…

 

It is Saturday night, and he has heard nothing from Harry. Harry is due to start work on Monday. The silence must be a no. He hasn’t even bothered to send an answer, leaving him in purgatory like he is inconsequential. 

 

Maybe they won’t go to the support group anymore. Maybe it will be like nothing happened, and Draco will be back to sitting alone with his son, on the fringe of everything, barely present. 

 

At least Potter had acknowledged his presence. 

 

And kissed him. 

 

And tricked Draco into hoping. 

 

And suddenly it’s back in waves, that old rage and repulsion, the thought of green eyes making his fists clench. He doesn’t even know what he is angry about. It’s just everything. It’s Potter and everything he represents - Potter is the reason he is living as an outcast, the reason he was condemned before he even reached adulthood. 

 

Potter is the reason he let his walls down, just a little, for the first time since Aron. Fuck. It’s just manners to reply. But then he’s never been one for manners. 

 

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, or the rage or the hope or some other terrible human impulse, but Draco does something incredibly stupid. 

 

He bundles Scorpius up in blankets against his chest and Apparates to Potter’s house. It’s nine o clock at night and freezing - the wind blows his hair into his eyes and bites at his nose whilst he stands on the front step, feeling foolish. 

 

What is he doing?

 

More to the point, why is he not stopping it? 

 

With a conflicted heart, Draco tucks his wand into his waistband and knocks on the door with his free hand. Then he considers running away, literally, but Potter lives on a weirdly long street and running with an eight month old baby in your arms is neither easy nor particularly safe. So he stands there, heart pounding loud enough to block out the sound of the wind, but not loud enough to block out his tumultuous thoughts. 

 

Potter opens the door, a tousled shadow framed by warm yellow light, confusion creasing his brows. 

 

“Draco?” he says, sleep rough voice making Draco’s heart flip. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“Scorpius is cold,” Draco says. Potter steps aside, letting him in. Draco barely even notices his surroundings. Potter leads the way to the living room. 

 

“Quiet,” he murmurs. “Teddy is asleep.”

 

Draco sets Scorpius down on the sofa, rearranging his blankets. He doesn’t stir. Scorpius doesn’t do things by halves - he is either wide awake or fast asleep. 

 

Then Draco turns to face Potter. 

 

_ Harry.  _

 

_ Potter. _

 

The name changes in his head depending on his mood, and now it is swinging back and forth like a pendulum because he is angry as hell but Potter only wearing boxer shorts and a faded Weird Sisters shirt that is too small, and his lips are red and bitten and distracting enough that Draco just stands and stares for a minute. 

 

“Why are you here?” he repeats. 

 

“Why were you asleep?” 

 

“What? What the hell has that got to do with anything? I fell asleep reading to Teddy, if you must know.” 

 

Well that is just freaking adorable isn’t it. Bloody brilliant. Merlin, how can one person cause such a conflict of emotions in him? 

 

Draco lets out a long, slow breath, emotion coursing through him. He is on fire with it, confusion and anger reigning supreme in his mind. He can’t think through the chaos. 

  
“You make me so fucking angry,” Draco growls. Some part of his brain is telling him to stop, but the rest of his body is screaming. So he gives in and closes the distance between himself and Potter, pinning the source of his confusion against the wall and kissing him roughly, tangling one hand in the wild mess of his hair and the other in the fabric of his shirt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was OK - let me know if you'd like to see more from Draco's pov in the future. I don't normally switch halfway through but I felt like this was useful in revealing a bit of Draco's life.


	11. post kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco share a kiss and an awkward aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is OK :) Chapter 12 is almost finished so it should be up by friday. Enjoy an as always please feel free to comment.

Draco is kissing him. Kissing him likes he wants to kill him. Draco bites at his lips and pulls his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp, breathing hot and ragged against him. 

 

And he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t think. He has never been so aware of his own body before, every nerve overloading his brain with signals - the softness of Draco’s hair against his cheek, the wet warmth of his mouth on his neck, the drag of his teeth against his skin, the soft caress of fingertips against his hip, almost absent minded, like Draco’s hand forgot his anger. 

 

Harry is vaguely aware that he is kissing Draco back - at some point he has pulled the other man close, close enough that he can feel the smooth fabric of his tailored trousers against the bare skin of his legs. 

 

Fuck. He didn’t know anything could feel like this - delicious and agonising and utterly out of control. He doesn’t know how he will ever stop kissing Draco Malfoy. He feels like he is drowning, and Draco is air, as long as he is touching, tasting, taking, he will keep breathing. Just about. It’s need - it’s not attraction or affection or any conscious kind of feeling - some primal part of him is in control now, and that part of him wants all of Draco against him, skin on skin and muscle against muscle, friction and desire and pure, unadulterated, hedonistic pleasure. 

 

Draco turns him into something he doesn’t recognise. He breaks down all of Harry’s pretense, strips away the hero and exposes something raw and needy. And he hates it and loves it in equal, confusing measure. 

 

It is only Scorpius crying that stops Harry from having rough sex with his rival against his living room wall. In hindsight, this is probably a good thing. In the moment, it seems disastrous. 

 

Draco pulls away, panting, and Harry stops breathing at the sight of him - his normally perfect hair is a wild mess that rivals his own, his lips are swollen and glistening, still parted in a kiss, his neck marked with bruises blooming red. His eyelids droop with desire and he looks confused, almost sleepy. 

 

He looks nothing like the person Harry hates, and exactly like someone he wants to wake up beside.

 

As Draco picks up his son, Harry leans against the wall, weak kneed and utterly confused. 

 

“Do you mind if I sit?” Draco says, and the words come out even but his voice is low and rough. Harry just nods dumbly, following him and taking the other end of the sofa. He is suddenly conscious of the fact that he is only wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt, and he hasn’t showered in two days. He is probably quite repulsive. 

 

“Um,” Harry says, once Scorpius has settled. He feels the need to break the silence, but articulacy has never been his strong point. 

 

Draco says nothing, avoiding his gaze. Harry thinks he can make out a flush of red brushing the tops of his ears and his cheeks. He shouldn’t find that attractive. He finds himself willing Draco not to act like an arsehole. 

 

“This can’t happen,” Draco says eventually. 

 

“It is pretty fucked up,” Harry agrees, lying down on the sofa, his feet just centimetres from Draco’s. Maybe it’s a desire to touch. Maybe it’s that he is tired and uncomfortable and has the knowledge that Draco is more than happy to be in close proximity to his body. 

 

“Potter, please remove your feet from my thigh.” 

 

Maybe not more than happy then. 

 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Less than a minute ago, your dick was literally pressed against my thigh. And you are moaning about my feet?”

 

“Yes well, I wash,” Draco says, rather primly. 

 

“Rude,” Harry says, wondering how long they can trade insults before they have to confront the uncomfortable truth of their mutual attraction. 

 

“I don’t like you, you know,” Draco says. “All this… it’s purely aesthetic.” 

 

Harry laughs and throws his head back, not missing the way Draco’s eyes travel across his throat. “Really? Thanks, Malfoy.” 

 

“I prefer Draco.” 

 

“Fuck,” Harry says. “What the hell is going on here?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s done. One kiss was enough.” 

 

Harry looks at him, and Draco meets his eyes, just. Yeah right. 

 

“You can have the job, if you want,” he says, instead of questioning the truth of Draco’s words. 

 

“Is that a good idea?” 

 

Harry grins. “It’s terrible.” 

 

“Still think I’m secretly plotting to kill you?” 

 

“I think if you tried, I could bat my eyelashes and you’d lose your resolve.” 

 

“You flatter yourself, Potter,” Draco says, but his smirk is softer, almost a smile, and that hits Harry’s heart instead of his groin and he knows then, on some level, that resistance is futile. Draco Malfoy is going to mess him up. 

 

“You start Monday. Come here. You and Scorpius can have the spare room - do what you please with it.” 

 

“I’m not living here like some kind of… housewife.” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I have to work insanely late. Sometimes your eight month old son will want to nap. Sometimes you might want some space. Of course, if you’d let me know where you live, Teddy could stay with you if you prefer. And if I have to work weekends, Molly has agreed to take him.” 

 

Draco is silent, considering. 

 

“Then there is the matter of pay,” Harry says. “I was thinking -” 

 

“No money,” Draco cuts in smoothly. “I have no need of it.” 

 

“I can’t ask that you do it voluntarily.” 

 

“Believe me, you are doing me a favour,” Draco says, and Harry wonders what he means but doesn’t say anything. “Let’s just say you’ll return the favour, should Scorpius ever need babysitting.” 

 

“Of course,” Harry says. “But that isn’t nearly enough.” 

 

“Don’t argue with me, Potter. I’ve given you my conditions. Now do you require me to sign a contract? Unbreakable vow to protect your son? I’ll swear under veritaserum if need be.”

 

Merlin, he isn’t joking. Draco is deadly serious. Harry can’t even begin to understand him - he is a human shaped configuration of contradictions, snark and sincerity and rage and accidental vulnerability all rolled up into someone he used to view as purely two dimensional. Draco proves that humans are far more complex than you ever give them credit for. 

 

“I don’t require anything of the kind,” Harry says, “However, given your reputation and the fact that I have a duty of care to Teddy, not to mention the reactions of my friends, I must ask you to commit to either veritaserum or legilimency. Hermione will carry out the spell. I am sorry.” 

 

Draco nods, jaw clenched tight. “I understand. I’d think it foolish of you to ask otherwise. I understand that my past - that it cannot be forgotten.” 

 

Harry nods. 

 

“Do you want to do it now? I can call Hermione.” 

 

“No offence, Potter, but it is past ten at night, and you look exactly like you’ve just been fucked, if you’ll forgive my crude language. I think that would raise some uncomfortable questions we’d both rather avoid. I shall return at four’o’clock tomorrow.” 

 

“OK,” Harry says, aware that his face is burning. “Um… bye then?” 

 

“Goodnight, Potter,” Draco says, picking up Scorpius and heading for the door. “Thank you.” 

 

Harry watches the door close and lies back on the sofa with a thump. He doesn’t know how to even begin processing the past forty minutes of his life.

  
As he falls asleep that night, he notes that the scooped out feeling Ginny left him with feels a little fuller. How can he keep hold of Draco Malfoy when he doesn’t even have him? 


	12. Legilimens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sees inside Draco's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. :)

Chapter Twelve 

Draco isn’t sure he can face Potter again after last night. At least not in polite company. Just thinking about it makes his breathing speed up. 

He’s not even that attractive. He is actually everything Draco hates in a man - he’s a little too thin, all bony elbows and jutting hipbones, and he has a near permanent lopsided grin when he isn’t glaring. His general state of being is dishevelled where Draco’s is carefully pristine. And his hair! Draco could write angry poetry about Potter’s hair. Not that he is going to. 

He can do this. He can face Granger and sign a contract or whatever it is they need and then he can look after Teddy and maybe feel alive again or something. This is for Scorpius as much as him - he can care for and love his son, but when Scorpius needs more than that, when he needs games and laughter and constant stimulation, Draco fears he will find himself lacking. 

There is no metaphor that can compare to the insidious fear that you are going to fail your child. 

…

“Granger,” Draco says, as politely as he can manage. It’s not great - he can hear the arrogant timbre to his voice, the tone that says he is better than her, that he is worth more than her. He’s tried so hard to eliminate that tone from his vocal range but it is a defense mechanism. 

“Mr Malfoy,” Hermione says, with a tight smile. Draco wonders if she is back in the manor, screaming under the Bellatrix’s wand. Because he is. Sometimes the screams from the manor wake him up at night, sweating and clutching his wand, sheets a tangled mess around his waist. He hates going back there to visit - no matter how hard he scrubs the place, he can’t quite get the stain of dark magic off. 

“I trust you are well?” he asks, cringing internally. What are you supposed to say to the girl you bullied for a solid six years? Sorry? Somehow, Draco doesn’t think sorry will cut it. At least Potter was rude to him first. Granger did nothing to earn his hate except dare to come from a background different from his own. 

If he could punch his eleven year old self, he probably wouldn’t. Because he has changed and he isn’t a dick who hits kids. See? He’s so moral now he can’t even fantasise about getting vengeance on himself. 

He pushes down the thoughts that raise their heads at that. Moral, they ask, really? Changed? Can you change that much? As long as you are Draco and you wear that face and have that name and that voice, you are tainted - rotten at the core, no matter what you cover it up with. 

Draco shakes his head and tries his best to not look like an arsehole. It’s so much easier with Potter. Where is he, anyway?

“Harry’s in the kitchen, washing up - he asked me to get the door,” Granger says. So she is still uncannily perceptive and able to virtually read his mind. Great. Maybe they can skip the veritaserum. 

Draco walks ahead of her and then stops, realizing his mistake. 

“You’ve been here before,” Hermione says. Not a question. Maybe he can lie and say that the house has a very obvious layout. Except it doesn’t, because Potter is an idiot and he has chosen to live in a weird old building where you get to the lounge through the kitchen and the hall is a little box with several doors coming off of it. 

“Er…” 

Hermione raises and eyebrow and Draco feels his cheeks flame. He curses his ancestors and their milky complexions. He’d kill to be able to hide a blush. Because now she knows he is hiding something. A something that involves him and Harry and a not quite decent amount of clothing. Not that he had anything to do with that. That was entirely Potter’s fault. And he needs to stop thinking right now. 

Hermione shakes her head. “I knew it. That idiot. I swear to Merlin he will never learn…” she pushes past Draco into the kitchen. Harry turns as they enter, soap bubbles up to his elbows and a sheepish look on his face, like he knows before Hermione speaks that he’s in for it. 

The insufferable bastard still isn’t wearing any trousers. 

Hermione marches over to him and snatches up a dish towel, vigorously drying a plate. 

“Do you have no self control?” she says. “Honestly, Harry. Bringing him over here? With Teddy around? Then this? I know you’re on the rebound but could you have picked a worse person?” 

Draco awkwardly sits at the table. Scorpius is grumbling and waiting to be fed. He takes out a jar of pureed something or other - he judges his son for enjoying this stuff - and feeds Scorpius, trying to ignore the fact that his ears are practically on fire. 

Her insults are the least he deserves to hear though. 

Harry has his hands up, dripping water on to the stone floor. 

“It wasn’t me! I swear I didn’t do anything except -” 

“So he just turned up here and snogged you all on his own, did he?” 

“Yes, actually. Didn’t seem very happy about it either.” 

Hermione puts the stack of plates away and Draco makes a note of where they go. 

“This is a terrible idea, you know. If I thought I could talk you out of it, I would.” 

Harry shrugs, not seeming too bothered. “Most of my ideas are terrible. I’m still alive though.” 

“There are higher things than survival to aim for!” Hermione exclaims.

“OK. I’m alive, have some decent friends, I’ve not fucked my kid up and I’m quite happy?” 

“And so sexually frustrated you are boning your childhood enemey and known deatheater!” 

At this point, a small voice from the doorway says; “What’s sexually frustrated?” 

Hermione’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Granger without words? Whatever next? Maybe some actual honest to goodness redemption. 

Harry doesn’t help. He looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or completely freak out. Draco wonders is he should step in with a white lie but his parents fucked up when it came to sex ed so he’s probably better staying away from it. 

“Want some chocolate buttons, Ted?” Harry says instead. 

Teddy grins and drags a chair to the side, hopping up and reaching precariously for one of the cupboards above the side. Harry darts across the kitchen and grabs him, swinging him around and laughing. Teddy squirms to be put down and Draco realizes that there is a stupid smile on his face and a terrible thought in his mind - he wants this to be home. 

Maybe not Potter and Teddy specifically, though some part of him knows that could all too easily become his desire. It’s more that he didn’t know he was missing out on something until now - sitting in this kitchen filled with Harry and Hermione’s easy friendship and Teddy’s antics and the clutter and mess of simple, everyday life, Draco is confronted with the sad reality of his home. 

It’s not that he feels sorry for himself as such - he knows he is lucky to have Scorpius and to be free and not locked up. He receives a relatively small amount of abuse from the general public. He has long grown out of the stage of simply whining about his problems - he learnt a long time ago that if you want something with any meaning, you have to work for it. 

But it’s been eight months and he’s worked as hard as he could to simply keep going and he can’t help but feel like the world is determined to kick him in the teeth. The simple act of wanting - of hoping - for something more feels dangerous, like something new will be taken from him, again and again until there is nothing left. 

That was what happened before, with Aaron. He’d dared to believe he was worthy of something more and then his entire world had crumbled. He has to be careful, tread lightly. Not do stupid things like snog Potter when he’s only wearing boxer shorts. Or when he is wearing a full tux for that matter. That’s the rule, he decides, if he wants a chance at this working - if he wants this life, caring for Teddy and convincing Harry and his friends that he is not in fact a despicable human, he needs to keep it platonic. 

Yeah, that’s not going to be hard at all. 

“Draco?” the object of his thoughts is waving a hand in his face, Teddy on his hip and a breadstick in his mouth. Why is he eating a breadstick? Can he stop? Draco wants him to stop before he leans forward and bites the end of it off. 

“Potter?” 

“We have decided a simple legilimens will suffice,” Hermione says. 

“Really? I could lie. I’m quite skilled at occlumency.” 

“Well then, Veritaserum would be useless as well.” 

Harry sighs. “This is ridiculous. He could have killed me years ago if he wanted.”

“Why would Mr Malfoy kill you?” 

Harry’s eyes widen. “Um. No, he wouldn’t do that Teddy. It was a joke. Why don’t you go and see if Tamolth is awake yet?” Teddy leaves the room and Harry sits down. 

“Parenting is hard,” he grumbles. 

“Tell me about it,” Draco mutters, and their eyes meet, a moment of mutual understanding passing between them. 

“Unbreakable vow?” Hermione suggests. 

“Merlin, Hermione. He could bump into Teddy and drop dead!” 

“Not if you word it right.” 

“I think that’s a bit excessive for a babysitting job.” 

Draco is inclined to agree, though he would never do anything to intentionally hurt Teddy, so he would. 

Draco sighs, and volunteers the final option. “There is a spell to prevent me from using occlumency. Cast that and then look in my mind - I’ll be unable to hide anything.” 

The thought of being so completely vulnerable makes his stomach flip inside him but he breathes in slowly and wills himself to calm down. He strokes Scorpius’ hair absentmindedly. The next few minutes are going to be horribly unpleasant. 

Hermione smacks herself in the forehead. “Of course! I read about it in one of my advanced mind magic books.” 

Harry looks at her. 

“I may have done some reading to try and discover something about Andromeda’s condition,” she says, blushing. “I got nowhere,” she adds. Harry sighs but rests a hand on her shoulder for a moment in silent thanks. 

“OK,” Draco says. “Will you hold Scorpius?” he says to Harry. Harry looks surprised but holds his arms out without hesitation. It’s only when he lets go of his son that Draco realizes how few people have ever held him. Letting go should be more distressing than it is, but when Draco sees the way Harry grins at the baby, he realizes he doesn’t need to worry. 

“I’m going to take Scorpius and go and watch Teddy,” Harry says. “Hermione, don’t kill him.” 

Harry closes the door behind him and Draco looks up into Hermione’s eyes, intelligent and solemn. 

“I never thought I’d be doing this,” she says, taking a seat opposite him. Draco rolls up his shirt sleeves and rests his chin in his hands, waiting. “You’re sure about this? If you try anything, I’m prepared - Harry’s put up wards and everything.” 

Draco rolls his eyes, trying not to let that small act of mistrust hurt him. In the grand scheme of things, it barely bruises. 

Draco nods and Hermione mutters the spell. And then she is inside his head. He can feel Hermione, looking around, like a nervous guest. 

Get on with it. Dig around. The worst parts of me can be read in the Prophet anyway. 

He feels her surprise at his words, and something like a laugh. It’s such an odd sensation, to have someone in his head. It’s not the first time, but every other time it’s been against his will, uncomfortable and prying, with the intent to harm. He’s had to fight himself not to throw them out of his mind. 

Draco clears his thoughts and brings up thoughts of Teddy, his desire to care for him, the memory of Teddy hugging his leg, digging out his beloved childhood toy from the sealed cardboard boxes he had brought from the manor and parcelling it up, the more recent memory of Teddy in Harry’s arms, laughing and joyous. 

He feels Hermione’s interest at his thought of Harry. There is no escaping it. 

The thoughts flood in then. He can’t stop them - the anti occlumency spell prevents him from casting thoughts out, from hiding them. 

There is his shock at seeing Harry for the first time after years, the gut reaction of anger and snarkiness and the utter bewilderment of that kiss. 

The odd feeling of a smile being tugged from his lips at Harry and Teddy’s interactions, and the feeling of being more alive somehow after trading insults. Lying awake, thinking of green eyes and tangled hair and warm mouths and wow this is uncomfortable, sorry Granger. 

There is his desire for Harry to let him take this job, and the way he has looked forward to Tuesday just to trade more insults, and the shocking, angry hurt at the lack of a reply from Harry and the doubts that crept in because what if it was like Aaron again, what if he hurt like that again. 

Aaron? 

He can feel Hermione’s question and it prompts memories. 

A smiling man taking the seat beside him in a muggle coffee shop, offering him another drink even though his cup was half full. The feeling of simply being liked by someone who knew nothing of his past, judged on who he is now and not who he was. The shock of fingers trailing over the mark with no knowledge of it’s meaning, the simple bliss of skin on skin and mouth on mouth and Aaron inside him, around him, his world condensed to a moment with a muggle man he met in a coffee shop. Studying late in Aaron’s apartment while Aaron typed away on his laptop in the corner. The feeling of freedom that came with being able to laugh and breathe easy, away from the politics of home. 

And the horror as Astoria walks into their shared bedroom to find them together, and the look of utter disgust as she realizes Aaron’s blood status, and the confusion on his face when Astoria raised her wand, and the tight feeling in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t know how to explain this away, and the way Aaron’s face shut down and closed off and how he walked away, holding his shoes in one hand and shirtless, not turning his head as Draco called helplessly after him. 

The disgust on his Mother’s face when she read the letter Astoria wrote, and the freedom and misery of signing divorce papers. And the heart wrenching fear when Astoria turned to him before leaving the house for the last time. 

“‘I’m pregnant. I’ll drop it off when it’s born. I want nothing to do with a child that’s no doubt inherited your perversions. I always knew you Malfoy’s were a bad lot but I didn’t think it extended to… consorting with… muggles.” 

And the confusion of how she could be pregnant because it had only been once and it had been awful, the opposite of Aaron, stiff and awkward and halting and tainted by the scent of the alcohol they had drunk in order to consummate their marriage. 

And then the self loathing and the hatred and confusion and slow path to healing and eight months of lonely, sleepless nights and the way Harry and Teddy made him feel alive again. 

…

Hermione pulls out of his mind and Draco drops his head to the table, tears staining his cheeks, too raw to face her. He’s grateful she didn’t go further back, into the past, into the war. He couldn’t have stayed after that. 

“Draco,” she whispers. “‘I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to-” 

Draco looks up. “You did. And I don’t want your pity, Granger.” He doesn’t bother to feel guilty over his tone of voice this time. He wants nothing more than to build all his walls up and obliviate Granger and run until he forgets his own name. 

“I believe you. I’ll tell Harry it’s fine.” 

Fine? What about him? He isn’t fine. He can’t - he can’t do this. He absolutely cannot fall in love with Harry Potter and he knows his heart will not obey him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update might take a little while as I'm suffering from writers block and personal stuff. Shouldn't be more than a week or so though. I hope you understand. Thank you for reading. :)


	13. back to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His desk is buried under Ron's dirty mugs, the work experience students are drooling over him, and there is STILL a wall of witch weekly covers featuring his face on the auror notice board. Harry isn't sure he is glad to be back at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I managed to write - here you go :) as always comments and feedback are much appreciated.

_ Harry,  _

 

_ How are you? The nurses say you visited last week, but I don’t remember. I feel so alone. Bring Teds soon, will you? I miss him. I want to see him again whilst I still remember him. I hope you two are coping, _

 

_ Love,  _

 

_ Andromeda.  _

 

Harry’s fingers tremble as he puts the parchment down, sadness sitting heavy in his stomach, mixing with guilt at the anger Andromeda would feel if she knew Draco was arriving in approximately 30 minutes to take care of Teddy. He folds up the letter and puts it on his pillow to deal with later. 

 

Wearing his auror robes again is odd. He has gotten too used to casual muggle clothing and spending half the day lounging in his pants. It’s like returning to Hogwarts after summer - the clothes are stifling and uncomfortable. He has to admit that it suits him though. 

 

Returning to work fills him with an odd feeling, not so much anxiety as discomfort - he has gotten used to his days with Teddy and the freedom of them.  That being said he is looking forward to the challenge again. He is good at his job, and he has missed working with Ron. Ron is delighted at his return - he’s been stuck on duty with Blaise Zabini for the past month and he is going insane. Blaise turned out to have perfectly sound morals, but he was also a complete arsehole and terribly vain. 

 

Teddy pads into the kitchen and opens the cupboard to get a bowl for his cereal. Harry smiles at him. Teddy has decided to do everything himself at the moment, which involves a lot of mess but it seems to make him happy. Harry has moved his bowl, spoon and cup, along with his favorite cereal and some other snacks, into one of the lower cupboards, and placed the milk on the lowest shelf of the fridge, allowing Teddy to pour himself an outrageously large bowl of cereal with minimum disaster. 

 

“Excited for today?” Harry asks. 

 

Teddy chews his lip. “Promise you’ll come back?” 

 

Harry frowns. “Of course I’ll come back, Teds. Why wouldn’t I?” 

 

“Andromeda says auroring is dangerous. I don’t want a baddy to kill you.” 

 

“Hey,” Harry says, crouching down beside his godson. “I’m not going to die, OK? I’m doing boring jobs at the moment - paperwork only. But I’m also a really good fighter, OK? I’ll be fine.” 

 

Teddy nods. 

 

“You’ll have lots of fun here with Scorpius and Mr Malfoy.” 

 

“Will he teach me to read? I want to read  _ every  _ book.” 

 

“Wow! Best get learning then!” Harry says, wondering how Hermione managed to have such an influence on the boy in just one evening of babysitting. Though maybe it rubbed off just from being in her presence generally. 

 

“So he’ll teach me?” 

 

Harry grins. “Yep. Mr Malfoy is going to teach you to read, and count -” 

 

“one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen - I can go to one hundred!” 

 

“Past one hundred even!” Harry laughs as Teddy’s eyes widen. “And he’ll teach lots of other things too, about magic and dragons and everything.” 

 

Teddy attempts an impressed whistle. That’s a Ron trick, right there. Well, at least he is picking up the better traits from his friends. Ron has many, many worse habits that Harry doesn’t even want to think about. 

 

There is a knock on the door and both Harry and Teddy jump up and almost run to answer it. Harry pulls the door open and finds Draco, neatly dressed as always, with Scorpius strapped to his chest and a large bag in his hand. 

 

“Morning,” Harry says, trying not to blush as Draco looks him up and down. Yup. Auror robes do wonders for his figure - maybe he should take a leaf out of Draco’s book and invest in some tailored clothes. 

 

Draco meets his eyes, almost shy. He had left abruptly the previous day, and Hermione hadn’t offered up much information except to say that she had seen some pretty personal things, but that Draco was genuine. 

 

“Please, come in,” Harry says, standing aside, feeling oddly awkward. It’s odd showing someone around your home, how you suddenly see it through a stranger's eyes. Luckily he had cleaned up the day before. 

 

Harry shows Draco the bathroom and shows him where the food for lunch and stuff is, and shows him the spare room. 

 

“If he is being really grumpy, he is probably tired-” 

 

“I don’t get tired!” 

 

“And he may need to nap. Though he will normally just go to sleep on beanbag in the living room if he is tired, so I wouldn’t worry. Oh, and he is desperate to learn to read.” 

 

Draco smiles down at Teddy. “Good job I brought my old reading books then.” 

 

“There are wizarding reading schemes?” Harry asks, having flashbacks to the good old magic key days. 

 

Draco grins. “Yup. They feature characters such as “Gerald the Grindylow”, “Merlin the Merman” and “Toby the Troll.”” 

 

“None of them sound very pleasant,” Harry says, considering his experiences with each of the magical creatures. 

 

Draco merely smiles and looks at his watch. “You are going to be late, Potter.” 

 

“OK, OK I’m going. Are you going to be OK?” he directs the question at both Draco and Teddy. Both of them nod solemnly and then Teddy breaks into a grin. “See you when I can read!” 

 

Harry doesn’t have the heart to explain that reading takes a while to master, so he grins and hugs Teddy, ruffling his hair (today, a tangled mess of odd green curls) and telling him to behave. 

 

He then nods to Draco, not quite sure what to say, and fires up the floo, trying to ignore the odd feelings of anxiety inside him. He is only on desk duty - literally nothing is going to happen. If he is lucky Blaise and Ron will have a fight and provide him with some entertainment. Or someone will finish the milk and put the empty carton back. Damn, he hates paperwork. 

 

…

 

“Harry!” Ron looks as though he is going to pick him up and swing him around the room, but at the last moment he gives him an enthusiastic punch on the shoulder. “Malfoy settling in alright?” 

 

Harry ignores the smirk that accompanies the statement. No doubt Hermione has relayed her knowledge of their not so secret snogging session. 

 

“Is my desk clean?” he asks instead. 

 

“Um,” Ron says, and Harry pushes past him into the auror office, a large, open plan room that is characterized by noise and chaos and copious amount of post it notes reminding people to complete boring tasks - aurors are good at action and terrible at filing. Harry looks around for his desk and finally locates it under a ginormous, tottering stack of dirty mugs. Possibly a month's worth -  two weeks at the very least. 

 

“We were going to wash them on Friday,” Ron begins, “But then there was a rogue underage wizard, a bad camouflage charm and an incident in a muggle lingerie store and you know, after that adventure, we just didn’t get around to it.” 

 

“Right,” Harry says. 

 

“But, the good news is we have work experiences kids!” 

 

“So I can use my famous face to get them to do it for me?” 

 

“Exactly. You are, after all, Witch Weekly’s sexiest wizard, five years running.” 

 

Harry glances at the noticeboard, and sure enough all four covers are grinning uncomfortably back at him. “Don’t remind me. Do we really need my shirtless body on the wall?” 

 

“It inspires us to do our job well,” Ron says, mock serious. “So that one day, we may also get away with never working out.” 

 

Harry looks pointedly at Ron’s stomach, which is far from a six pack. 

 

“Hermione likes me this way!” 

 

“You keep telling yourself that.” 

 

Ron’s face creases with worry. “What do you know? Harry, what has she told you? I know you two gossip like housewives-” 

 

Harry swats him. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.” 

 

“This isn’t over! Just you wait, next year I’m going to be on that cover.” 

 

“Get real Ron - the first Weasley to gain that title is going to be Charlie and you know it.” 

 

“Merlin Harry, leave my siblings alone! You’re a… a Weasley sex predator.” 

 

Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Ron and chuckles at the crimson blush of horror on his friends face. “You’re next mate. Don’t go to the gym too much or I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” 

 

There is a squeak behind him, and he sees a young woman looking at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. Behind her is a young man, with a similar look of awe on his face. The third student, a serious looking girl, is frowning at him. Ah, work experiences. Time to separate the fangirls (and boys) from the serious candidates. 

 

He wishes he were out fighting some particularly nasty wizard. Because that is far easier than trying to toe the line between crushing people and encouraging them. It’s been five years and he still doesn’t see what people find so attractive about him. He figures the lack of a film industry in the wizarding world has left celebrity crush options a bit thin on the ground. He resolves to get fat this year so Witch Weekly will leave him alone. 


	14. first day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's first day minding teddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate chapter titles and summaries. Enjoy :)

Draco’s first day as childminder to Teddy Lupin goes relatively smoothly. He is lucky that Scorpius is a quiet child during the day - he prefers to save his screaming for later. He sits at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, Scorpius asleep at one end, safely walled in by sofa cushions (he makes a note to bring a carrier tomorrow) and Teddy watching, rapt, as he sketches a dragon for the boy to colour. 

 

After a few moments of quiet, Teddy looks up from his picture. 

 

“Are you going to teach me to read yet?” 

 

Draco chuckles. There is something charming about the eagerness of a child to learn before they come to think of it as a chore. Draco hopes his teaching allows Teddy to retain that enthusiasm. 

 

“After lunch, I think,” Draco says. “You don’t want to learn on an empty stomach.” 

 

Teddy colours in the dragon’s tail, and then peers at the clock on the wall.

 

“Is it lunch yet?” he asks hopefully. 

 

“Soon,” Draco promises, noting that Harry’s clock is set to entirely the wrong time. Magical clocks are temperamental things, and this one is not a morning clock. 

 

…

 

“Mr Malfoy!” Draco winces at Teddy’s call - Scorpius has spent the past hour grumbling and has just fallen asleep. He does not wish to awake the beast, so to speak.

 

Draco heads to the bathroom, which Teddy had disappeared into several minutes ago. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Can you check my bum, please?” he asks, in a perfectly ordinary tone of voice. Draco flounders for a moment. This had not occurred to him as a possible event that could transpire. 

 

“Ah… why?” Draco says cautiously, hoping that Teddy doesn’t have some strange rash or illness. 

 

“To make sure there is no poo on it,” Teddy says, as though Draco is a little stupid. Teddy is four, he realizes. Toilet trained, but maybe not quite a master of loo roll. 

 

“OK,” Draco says, opening the bathroom door with caution. He is confronted with a very bare bottom. Teddy is bent over, touching his toes. He turns his head to look at Draco when he enters, waiting for a verdict. 

 

Draco quickly glances and gives Teddy the thumbs up. Teddy pulls up his pants and washes his hands, walking out and leaving Draco to briefly contemplate his life in front of the mirror. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Potter should be paying him something for this. 

 

… 

 

There is a knock at the door and Draco wonders who it is, before realizing that it is most likely Harry returning from work. 

 

He remembers what Harry had told him about his wards - the door can only be opened from the inside when the house is occupied, even if Harry himself is returning. He’d doubled security since he’d begun caring for Teddy, and had told Draco he didn’t care if it seemed paranoid. He’d rather be a nutter than dead. 

 

Draco peers through the letterbox (a very useless feature on the homes of magical folk) and finds himself eye to eye with Harry, who is waiting on the other side. His eyes are really quite beautiful, Draco notes absently, trying to remember the words to allow Harry entry. 

 

“Draco?” Harry says. “I’m freezing my arse off out here. Sometime today might be nice.” 

 

“Apologies,” Draco murmurs, tearing his eyes away and finally figuring out how to open the door. “Your wards really are quite complex you know.” 

 

“Thank Hermione and three years auror training for that,” Harry says, entering the hall with a grin, stopping beside Draco. Draco realizes they are almost chest to chest in the narrow hallway and hastily takes another step back into the house. Harry catches his wrist and Draco’s heart leaps. 

 

“Wait - how did the day go? Whilst Teddy’s big ears aren’t around,” Harry says, deliberately insulting his godson to draw him out if he is in fact hiding somewhere near by. After a moment of quiet, Draco smiles. 

 

“Fine,” he says. “Teddy began learning basic sounds. He also cooked baked beans and helped me change Scorpius’ nappy. Very educational.” 

 

He notices Harry smiling at him in a most peculiar way. 

 

“What is it, Potter?” he says, defensive. 

 

Harry laughs. “Nothing. You look good when you smile, is all.” 

 

Draco rolls his eyes. “I look good all the time,” he says, heading into the living room. He hears Harry mumble in agreement from behind him and hopes Harry doesn’t see his small, smug smile reflected in the hall mirror. 

 

“Harry!” Teddy almost shrieks, running to his Godfather. Harry scoops him up and carries him to the sofa over his shoulder, Teddy’s bare feet wriggling in delight. 

 

“Did you miss me?” he asks. Teddy laughs. 

 

“No way! Mr Malfoy taught me to read, and how to make beans, and how to slide on the wood in socks - he knows an extra slippy charm to make it extra slippy!” 

 

Draco avoids Harry’s gaze at that, not sure he can hide a blush if he has to look into his eyes. Merlin, he is hopeless. He used to be so much cooler. Yeah, Draco reminds himself, and he also used to be an absolute asshole who followed an evil, soulless wizard. Some things are not worth doing just to be sauve. 

 

“Sounds like you had fun, Teds,” Harry says, and Draco detects a hint of sadness in his voice. 

 

“How was work?” Draco asks, realizing afterwards that he sounds like Harry’s bloody wife or something. He needs some structure here. Needs to leave before this becomes too social. 

 

“Boring,” Harry says. “Now, I’m starving. Are you staying for dinner, Draco?” he asks. 

 

Draco blinks. That would be a terrible idea, he decides. Dinner, maybe a drink, and then before he knows it Teddy is asleep and Scorpius is asleep and they find some reason to get angry enough to step into one another's space and… nope. 

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Draco says, maybe a little colder than warranted. 

 

“It’s not trouble, honestly.” 

 

Draco looks for a reasonable excuse to get out of Potter’s house before he rips his stupid auror robes off. 

 

“Scorpius is out of nappies.” 

 

“Oh, er - well, if you are sure.” 

 

Draco stands and begins to gather his things. 

 

Harry sees him to the door, Teddy following. 

 

“I shall see you in the morning then,” Draco says. 

 

Harry nods. 

 

Teddy hands him a book. 

 

Draco takes it, confused. 

 

“You gave me a book. So you can read this one of mine,” he explains, smiling. Draco thanks him and walks down the street to the apparition point, forcing himself not to look back, knowing that the sight of Harry and Teddy, bathed in the warm glow of home, will leave him aching for something he knows he can’t have. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK sorry if the toilet thing was weird but I don't want to present parenting as some wonderful thing like I want to capture the ridiculous awkwardness of it as well.


	15. Visiting hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy mild angst (don't worry - there is lots of fluff in the next chapter :) )

“If you could just take a seat, Mr Potter, and someone will show you to the room shortly,” the receptionist says, with a smile that is a shade too close to flirtatious for his liking. Ever since the media caught wind of his supposed sordid affair with Draco, he had been receiving a whole lot of attention from males as well as females, which was new and just as awkward. 

 

He sits down beside Teddy. His godson is clutching a card he has drawn for his grandmother, and Tamolth is sat on his shoulder - he refuses to go anywhere without the tiny dragon. 

 

“Ready to go see Andromeda?” Harry asks, trying to gauge whether Teddy is feeling any anxiety. They don’t visit as often as they should, Harry knows this. But it is Andromeda’s birthday and they promised. He feels guilty about it, but it is not that he doesn’t care for the woman, it is just so difficult to watch her deteriorate, and to watch Teddy’s confusion. 

 

“Mr Potter? This way, if you please. Andromeda has been moved to a more secure wing.”

 

“Secure?” Harry asks, feeling concern rise in his his chest. “She didn’t…” 

 

“No one has been harmed. We simply felt that she would benefit from a wing with a little more supervision.” 

 

“And no progress has been made to cure her?” Harry knows he shouldn’t talk like this in front of Teddy. His godson takes his hand and and walks alongside him quietly. 

 

“We are still trying to find the source of the damage. We believe her condition was caused by a curse - but the doctor will tell you more when you meet with her later.” 

 

The nurse apparently remembered that there were small ears present. At least someone was responsible. 

 

They entered the ward, and Harry was struck by the difference. The last ward had been open plan, several beds in one large room, with curtains that could be pulled close for privacy. This ward was one long corridor with doors coming off of it into separate rooms. Most of the doors were open, and skylights in the roof of the hospital let light in - it wasn’t unpleasant, but Harry knew that the doors could lock and that was why Andromeda was here. 

 

“Why don’t you come with me, young man, and we’ll see if we can find some chocolate frogs, whilst your godfather speaks to the doctor?” 

 

Teddy glances at Harry, and Harry nods in encouragement. The one good thing about his fame is that he avoids mistakes about Teddy’s parentage, which makes life easier. 

 

Harry watches as the nurse leads Teddy away, and he turns into the office at the end of the corridor. A wizard turns to face him as he enters. He is a lot older than the nurse had been, probably past sixty, with a sharp look about him that is oddly familiar. When he recognises Harry he smiles, taking of his glasses and folding them on the desk in front of him.

 

“Mr Potter, do come in,” he said, a trace of a scottish accent noticeable in his voice. “I’m Dr Malcom McGonagall.” 

 

“Professor -” Harry says, astounded. 

 

“Ah, of course. Yes, Minerva is my big sister.” 

 

“Pleased to meet you Dr,” Harry says, holding out a hand. “I never knew she had any siblings.” 

 

“My sister has never been once to disclose much about her private life, and I must say, I haven’t either. Now, Andromeda,” he says. 

 

“Yes, of course,” Harry sits, feeling oddly like a school boy again. The doctor really is eerily like McGonagall. 

 

“I am a leading doctor in the field of illnesses of the mind. I have spent some weeks studying Andromeda’s condition, and I believe I have found the cause.” 

 

“Really? Can you treat it?” 

 

Dr McGonagall sighs heavily. “I am afraid that is beyond my expertise, at this current point. It is a very old curse, all but forgotten. The incantation is “moram insaniam” - literally meaning delayed insanity. It has very little practical use in terms of combat, in fact it’s purpose seems simply to be cruel.” 

 

“What does it do?” 

 

“It can lie dormant for several years, until triggered by some event, a memory or interaction for example, and once activated it begins to destroy the mind, interfering with memories and emotions, even causing hallucinations, until the person is left, quite literally, insane. It is one of the most malicious curses I have encountered.” 

 

“But now you know what it is, you’ll be able to fix it?” 

 

The doctor purses his lips, and Harry feels his heart sink. “I am doing my best. I have other doctors working with me - we believe it is likely there may be other victims out there, if it was the work of a death eater who tracked people down for voldemort. We’ll do everything we can, but we have found nothing to suggest a counter curse. Even if we can stop the damage progressing, it is unlikely we can restore her mind to it’s former state.” 

 

Harry nods, trying to keep his breathing steady. He doesn’t feel ready for this news, doesn’t quite understand why he must be the on to receive it, to shoulder it. He represses the urge to kick something in anger at the war that should be fading into the past, not still causing havoc years later. 

 

“I will inform you of any progress,” the doctor says. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

… 

 

Harry forces a smile onto his face as he and Teddy enter Andromeda’s room. She is sat in a chair, reading a book. She smiles as they enter. 

 

“Teddy,” she says, opening her arms. Teddy hugs her and gives her the card, and the speak quietly for a few moments. Harry doesn’t intrude, instead looking out of the window over the rooftops of london, and wondering what Andromeda knows of her condition. 

 

“Harry,” she says, a few minutes later, and her tone chills something inside him. She knows, he thinks. She knows about Draco. 

 

He turns, wondering how on earth to justify and explain his actions. 

 

“Is it true?” 

 

Harry contemplates feigning innocence. 

 

“Is Draco Malfoy being left alone with my grandson on a daily basis?” 

 

Harry nods mutely, and a terrible look passes over Andromeda’s face. 

 

“How could you?” she says quietly. “How could you let that...that monster near my grandson? You know what he did. You know who he was. I can’t believe you put him at risk like that -” 

 

“I would never put Teddy in danger,” Harry cuts in, feeling blood rise in his cheeks at the suggestion.

 

“You went against my express wishes. I…” she looks at a loss for words, and guilt floods him at the hurt on her face. Then her expression changes to one of cold calm. 

“I don’t think you are fit to care for him.” 

 

The words are like a punch in the gut, and it is all Harry can do to stay looking at her. Teddy is looking up at him with wide, worried eyes. 

 

“Is Mr Malfoy bad?” he whispers. 

 

“No,” Harry says, at the same time as Andromeda says yes. 

 

“He has changed, Andromeda. I - Hermione cast a legilimens on him, read his mind. He means Teddy no harm. He doesn’t speak with any of his family save his mother these days.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“You don’t know him. Do you honestly think, for a second, that I would endanger your grandson? I love him as if he were my own.”

 

“You can’t know that. You’ve never had children.” 

 

But he does, he thinks. He knows he would die for Teddy in a heartbeat, knows he would kill to protect him, go to any length to ensure his wellbeing. He knows that his heart swells with pride when he achieves new things, and he knows that the thought of losing him, even though it has only been a few months, makes him ache. 

 

“Give him a chance,” Harry begs. “Meet with him. He is different. He’s not like his family, OK? Not anymore. People break away from their upbringings, Andromeda. You should understand that.” 

 

Andromeda shakes her head. “There are some things you can’t shake off. Like Voldemort’s mark.” 

 

“Andromeda -” 

 

“You clearly aren’t going to listen to me, and I apparently have no say in the matter anymore. I’m tired. Please leave.” 

 

Harry sighs, at a loss of how to solve the problem when he is completely unwilling to give Andromeda what she wants. Does that make him a bad person, that he is choosing Draco over her? Or does that make the better person, because he is choosing forgiveness over prejudice? He could go around in circles, but he knows it won’t change his decision. He has seen this thing with Draco through this far, and he wants to know where it is going to end up.

 

“I’m sorry, Andromeda. But I stand by my decision. Ron and Hermione are on my side. Molly has given me her blessing as well.” This is partially true. Ron and Hermione still despise Draco, but have grudgingly accepted that Draco doesn’t seem to have any malicious motives. 

 

Andromeda just narrows her eyes and says nothing. 

 

“Fine. Be like that. I’ll see you next Sunday. Ready Teds?” 

 

Teddy hugs his grandmother, confusion plain on his face. She hugs him back and the sadness on her face a she lets him go makes guilt flood through Harry once again. He can’t be perfect, he knows that, but sometimes he feels like he is falling unacceptably short. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I think this has been beta read but I'm not sure anymore because I think I wrote more anyway please forgive me if there are mistakes.


	16. Late home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is late home. Scorpius has only just gone to sleep after screaming for hours, so when Harry tells Draco to stay, he really doesn't have the will power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :) (This chapter is longer than the last one yay)

Harry knocks as quietly as he can, hoping not to wake any children. Draco opens the door, greeting him with a face that looks as tired as he feels. His hair is tousled as though he has been asleep, and there is a red mark on one cheek from where his face has been pressed against something. 

 

Harry collapses on the sofa, kicking his boots off. Draco sits in the chair opposite, and Harry notices the open book on the arm beside him, the slight warmth of the cushions, the way the seat is sunken into the shape of someone else’s body. 

 

“Sorry,” he says, standing. 

 

Draco waves away his apology and motions for him to sit again. Harry notices he is only wearing socks - one green, one red - and somehow this is strangely endearing. Draco doesn’t seem like someone who would ever wear odd socks. 

 

“Sorry I’m so late. Stakeout. I thought I’d be glad to be back in the field but after six hours in the freezing cold, I’m not so sure.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco says. “Scorpius has only just gone to sleep. He’s been screaming for the past two hours. Thank Merlin for silencing charms.” 

 

Harry sits and says nothing for a minute, enjoying being back in the warmth. After a moment, Draco stands as if to leave. 

 

“Stay,” Harry murmurs. “Don’t wake Scorpius - he won’t settle again.” 

 

Draco looks as though he wants to argue. 

 

“When he wakes up, I’m taking him home,” Draco says, the protest seeming more out of principle than any real desire to leave. 

 

Harry smiles. “OK,” he says. “When he wakes, you can take him home, only to return first thing in the morning.” Part of him hopes Scorpius sleeps all night. Part of him wants to eat breakfast with Draco, and talk about their plans for the day. 

 

A bigger part of him wants Draco to end up in his bed. Draco stretches, and settles more comfortably into the chair, and Harry can’t quite look away. He stares for too long, long enough to cross a line, but he is too tired to fight himself, and it’s not like Draco doesn’t know he is attracted to him. 

 

There is only so long you can resist the things you want, Harry thinks. Sometimes, if you wait, the desire goes away. But sometimes, it just gets stronger. Like when you eat half a bar of chocolate, and you put it away and sit back down, and the desire to finish it builds in you until you all but run to the fridge and stuff it in your mouth. 

 

Kissing Draco Malfoy only once is like licking a bar of chocolate and resisting biting down. Especially when he is sitting not two metres away, sleep tousled and wearing odd fucking socks. That shouldn’t be appealing, but it is such an oxymoron that he can’t help fixating on it.

 

The seconds stretch by, and Harry realizes Draco is staring back at him, lust and something softer in his eyes, and it’s the same way Ginny used to look at him, back when everything was fine, like he was fire and home all at once. 

 

Too soon, he thinks. Far too soon. So he pushes it from his mind and stands up. 

 

“Hungry?” he asks, “I’ve not eaten since-” he pauses. “Erm - maybe yesterday lunchtime actually,” he finishes, his stomach growling. Draco looks appalled. 

 

“Potter. You can’t just not eat.” 

 

“I forget,” he says. 

 

“How can you forget?”

 

“Well, Teddy had already had tea when I got back yesterday, and I didn’t think to cook for myself, and then this morning he couldn’t find the trousers he wanted, and I was late for work, so I forgot breakfast, and then we were staking out this house in the literal middle of nowhere and food just didn’t happen.” 

 

“Sit down, Potter,” Draco sighs, like Harry is utterly useless. “I’ll cook.” 

 

“You don’t have to - that is absolutely not in your job description.” 

 

Draco blushes faintly. “I, er, actually haven’t eaten either.” 

 

“You hypocrite!” 

 

“You try finding time to eat between entertaining, bathing, and feeding a four year old and a baby.” 

 

Harry shrugs. “Fine. I’ll help. No idea what is in the cupboards though.” 

 

They head into the kitchen and Harry tries not to think about the fact that he is cooking with Draco Malfoy whilst both their children are in bed and that the only thing stopping him pinning Draco against the counter and kissing him senseless is his will power. 

 

Oh, and the fact that he is actually really hungry. 

 

“Can you even cook?” Harry asks, as Draco peers into the depths of his kitchen cupboards. Draco looks at him. 

 

“Ish.” 

 

“Meaning?” 

 

“If you have the ingredients for one of the three things I can make amazingly well, then yes. Ah, eggs. You’re in luck.” 

 

Draco proceeds to make omelette, whilst Harry watches, occasionally passing the things Draco asks for. It feels oddly natural, standing beside him in the kitchen, watching him work. Cooking isn’t so far from potions - it makes sense that Draco would suit it, if he applied himself. 

 

Draco’s arm brushes his as he drops dishes into the sink, and they both start at the contact, looking away. Harry wonders if it is as hard for Draco not to touch as it is for him. 

 

He knows how it would end though - a few weeks of sex when the kids kids were asleep, stifling noise to prevent interruptions, and then the inevitable fallout that comes from such an affair, the media all over them and Teddy hurt and confused, his family disapproving and his bed empty again. 

 

It’s not worth it for sex. But when he catches Draco smiling when he compliments the food, and when he notices how Draco’s shoes are lined up neatly beside Teddy’s at the door, and he remembers Draco’s sleep tousled hair, he wonders if if could be something more. 

 

“Enjoying that, Potter?” Draco asks. Harry looks at him, taking in the confused expression on Draco’s face at the sneery tone he had spoke with. “Sorry. Still not quite used to the fact that you and I don’t want to kill each other these days. Old habits and all.” 

 

“Shut up, Malfoy.” 

 

Draco kicks him under the table, but Harry catches his leg with his own foot before it retreats. Why did he do that? Idiot. But it’s done now. Neither of them move, and they both finish eating, Draco with one leg stretched awkwardly under the table, calf pressing against Harry’s.

 

“Stay, tonight,” Harry says again. Draco looks at him, and Harry hopes his face doesn’t look as if he is implying anything involving nudity. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“I think… I think we should talk. Properly, you know.” 

 

“About what, Potter?” Draco says, a trace of the old animosity in his voice. “About the good old days when you were best pals with the greatest wizard of all time and I was the minion of an evil, soulless dickhead?” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Do you ever give the drama a rest, Draco?” 

 

Draco shrugs. 

 

“I mean… there is something here, OK? Or at least, I don’t know, potential for it. It’s stupid, probably a bad idea, I mean, but - if we don’t try and make something work properly, it’s going to end in sex and rage and… Teddy really likes you and I think maybe, if you gave me the chance, I might too.” 

 

His ears are burning, Weasley style. It’s the kind of embarrassment where your entire head feels hot, like there is too much blood inside your skull, and if anything else happens your brain will explode, solving all your troubles in a gross but convenient explosion of grey matter. 

 

Draco looks down at his plate, a movement that Harry has come to realize shows his embarrassment. 

 

“OK,” he whispers. 

 

“Pardon?” Harry says, mostly in surprise.

 

Draco looks at him, eyes narrow. “I said OK, Potter. I’ll stay.” 

 

“So, you want to -” 

 

“Bloody hell, do you want it in writing?” 

 

“OK! OK!” Harry holds his hands up in surrender. “Tea then?” 

 

“Milk, no sugar.” 

  
  


…

 

“So, where do we start?” Harry asks, looking up as Draco pads back into the lounge from checking on Scorpius. Draco sits down on the opposite end of the sofa, knees up against his chest. 

 

Draco shrugs. “Depends.” 

 

“On?” 

 

“Where we are going.” 

 

Harry breathes in. They are on the very edge of comfortable territory, and he knows they could step into something else all too easily, passion or rage and or simple cold indifference. There is the potential for something stronger between them, but at the moment nothing is holding them together - if they fight, if things go bad now, it is the end. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

Draco inhales, eyes on his knees, avoiding Harry’s gaze, vulnerability evident in everything from his eyes to his posture. “I want...I…” he trails off, like the words won’t come out. Harry nudges him with his toe. 

 

“I think - I think we have nothing to lose, OK?”

 

“Are you suggesting we date, Potter?” 

 

“I -” 

“Because I’m not sure I can feel that way about you. I don’t hate you anymore, and I would absolutely sleep with you, but beyond that, I just don’t know.” Draco is looking at him no, gaze sharp, burning. 

 

Harry meets his eyes. “You’re lying,” he says simply. “I can see it, you know, in your face. I know what it’s like to be alone. I know what it’s like to long for something, some kind of connection.” 

 

“You don’t know me, Potter. You don’t know me at all.” 

 

“No. But I think I’d like to change that.” 

 

Draco stares at him, something akin to astonishment in his expression. 

 

“Is that so hard to believe?” 

 

“Yes,” he whispers, and Harry isn’t quite sure what to make of Draco, minus the arrogant defence mechanisms and witty comebacks. There is something almost wrong about, discomfiting, but maybe that is simply because he has never properly taken the time to see Draco as another thinking, feeling person, and has instead viewed him only from his own perspective.

 

“Just… I know you are different now, OK? Not so much in how you act, just, I don’t know. You aren’t the person I hated. I’d like to understand how you became who you are.” 

 

“That’s a pretty convoluted way to ask how I came to be a single parent and outcast from society, Potter.” 

 

“Well, it sounded less nosy in my head. You could call me Harry, you know.” 

 

“Not yet, Potter.” 

 

“OK. How did you come to be a single parent and outcast from society?” 

 

Draco sighs. “In summary, I married a woman because my parents told me too, got very drunk in order to consummate the marriage, because I am as queer as they come, had an affair with a muggle I met in a coffee shop, got caught by my wife, cast out of pure blood society, and ended up with my “abomination” of a son in a one bed flat in London,” he says, all in one long rush of breath. 

 

Merlin. OK. He doesn’t quite know where to begin formulating a response to that. 

“Wow. So, you’re gay then?” 

 

Draco rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Potter, I thought that would be the least surprising thing of the lot.” 

 

“Well. I’m bisexual. You could have been.” 

 

“I figured that, when you kissed me after breaking up with your longtime girlfriend. Not rocket science.” 

 

The mention of Ginny still stings, more than he’d like it too. 

 

“OK OK next thing then - affair with a muggle?” 

 

Draco shrugs. “I’m not ashamed. I used to be. I hated myself for what I felt for him at first - it went against everything I’d been taught to believe. But then - well, it didn’t feel wrong. And I’ve learned that what I feel is often a better indication of morality than what I’m told.” 

 

“What happened to him?” Harry asks softly. 

 

Draco chuckles, but it is bitter, covering up a hurt that is still as raw as his own pain over Ginny. “He left. After Astoria found us together. She drew her wand and screamed at him, until I drew my own and faced her. I suppose he thought us both mad. I tried to call him, but he didn’t want to know.” 

 

“Did you ever tell him you were married?” Harry asks. 

 

“No.” 

 

Harry smiles slightly. “That might have had something to do with it, you know.” 

 

Draco raises an eyebrow. “It’s quite normal for people in pureblood marriages to have affairs. We don’t marry for love.” 

 

“Not really the done thing in the muggle world, Draco. Plus the whole wand thing wouldn’t have helped.” 

 

“The way he looked at me though…” 

 

Harry presses his foot a little more firmly against Draco’s thigh. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Your turn then,” Draco says. “What’s the deal with you and the weasel?” 

 

“Don’t call her that.” 

 

“Come on, I’m on your side here. Let’s rally against people who ditch us when things get rough.” 

 

“Ginny wasn’t ready for motherhood, and she didn’t need to be. It’s that simple.” 

 

Draco frowns at his knees. 

 

“It isn’t though. She owed you - she owed you everything. You saved her, and her family, so many times. You fought for her. Why aren’t you mad that she didn’t fight for you?” 

 

“You can’t love someone to pay back a debt, Draco. And you can’t stay with someone out of duty. I loved Ginny, and I’d hate for her to be with me if she didn’t love me.” 

 

“Aren’t you hurt though? Aren’t you angry?” 

 

Harry shrugs, because what can he say to that? How can he sum up his feelings for the only girl he’s ever really loved, in a few sentences? Because he is hurt and angry and confused and relieved and so many other emotions all at once, and the only way to deal with it is to push it down and focus on something new. Something like the blue gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, pale skin and shy smile and the possibility of something he can barely comprehend right now. 

 

“I guess I wasn’t what she dreamt I’d be. The reality of me falls far short of the legend.” 

 

Draco smiles. “Tell me about it. I’m not half as evil as people expect - a real let down, really.” 

 

Harry grins, raising his mug. “To falling short of ridiculous expectations,” he says, not hiding the smile that spreads across his face when Draco’s mug clinks against his. 

 

Draco sits back again, legs crossed, expression briefly unguarded. 

 

“Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now?” Harry blurts out. 

 

A serene smile spreads across Draco’s face. “Probably,” he murmurs. “Do I need to put some distance between us?” 

 

Harry laughs. “Nah. The anticipation is half the fun.” 

 

“Like Christmas.” 

 

“Better, I think. My Christmases were always pretty shit.” 

 

“No great expectations to meet then?” 

 

“If your kissing skills aren’t more exciting than an old sock and fifty pence coin it’s not going to work out, I’m sorry.” 

 

“Thank Merlin you’re not a house elf then.” 

 

“Seriously though… all this… slow, yeah?” 

 

Draco grins. “I have excellent self control. I guarantee you will snap first.” 

 

“Really? Because I seem to remember it was you who stormed into my house and snogged me silly.” 

 

“Potter, don’t say things like “snogged me silly” or I might have to do just that to shut you up.” 

 

Harry laughs. “Bet you three nappy changes you break first.” 

 

“Oh I am going to hold out forever now. Scorpius’s bowels are a force to be reckoned with. One problem though - if you win the bet, what is my punishment? Or have you admitted defeat already?”

 

Looking at Draco, openly laughing and and curled on his couch, Harry thinks that his losing is almost inevitable. 

  
  



	17. pacifier (read the notes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the future. The notes are really important on this fic - please read. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. I hit a block with this story. I adore these characters and the life they are starting to build, and I can't just abandon them, but 2016 was supposed to be the year for me to concentrate on original fiction and I'm feeling really crap about writing at the moment. Basically I can't write anything new whilst this sits unfinished. So the story is not complete, but I've written a little something that will hopefully offer some closure if you don't want to wait. It doesn't spoil anything, so if you want to stick around for when I return to it properly, there is plenty still to happen, but if you want to say farewell, you can. I can't deal with the idea of leaving so many of you waiting. Anyway I plan to finish this properly, but for now it's marked as complete so I can work on other projects. 
> 
> I'm really sorry this has happened but at the end of the day writing is a hobby and when I'm stressing about it the quality goes down ect idk I just have to take a break. If you want to stay subscribed for future updates, I'd be delighted, honestly. I love this story and I want to finish it properly - I just want to do it justice when I do. :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, and I hope you enjoy this shameless fluff.

Draco opened his eyes and rolled over to find Harry looking back at him. Despite years of this, of quite mornings waking up together, it never quite felt familiar. Maybe it was some part of the old Draco left in him, that sad young man who went to sleep dreaming of the impossibility of love, that was surprised every day to be woken by a smile.

His eyes catch, as the always do, on the sharp edge of Harry’s collarbone, and the soft curve of his throat, and the turned up corner of his mouth, lips already parting in a kiss.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and Draco kisses him in reply.

“S’your turn to do breakfast, you know,” he says. Draco groans and attempts to pout.

“Not gonna work, Malfoy. Saturdays are your day. It’ll be the last one for a while – Teds is off too Hogwarts on Monday.”

Draco’s pout falls away. “Let’s get up together then. Pancakes?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You know we always burn them and end up going to the coffee shop down the road for muffins.”

“Maybe today will be different.”

“I adore your optimism.”

Draco kisses Harry again, fiercely, pinning him to the bed. Some part of him is surprised Harry isn’t suffocated by the weight of emotion Draco can feel spilling out of him. It amazes him every day that this man is his, that Harry is family and that there is nothing strange about it.

Sure, there was, for awhile. It was a mess. But it takes some adjusting to go from enemies to lovers, and more so to co-parents.

There is a knock on the door that forces Draco to roll back onto his side of the bed. Harry lets out a disappointed sigh and Draco huffs a laugh.

“Dads! Ted stole my  dragon!”

“He was making it roar down my ear!” Teddy yelled back. “And it burnt the cover of “Hogwarts: A history” and now I’ll look like I don’t care about books!”

Harry is laughing, face pressed against Draco’s side, little breathy laughs like kisses against his bare skin.

“Granger turned our son into a giant nerd, Potter.”

“Oh shut up. You know you competed with her throughout school. It’s definitely your fault Teddy’s a total swot.”

“I’m coming, Scorpy.”

“Come quick! He says he’s gonna bash me!”

“Teddy don’t bash your brother!” Harry yelled, rolling out of bed and pulling on a shirt. “I suppose we’d best go and separate them before our house falls down around our ears.”

“Daaaaaaadddddddyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!”

Draco kisses Harry once, quick and joyful, and heads into the chaos of the day.


End file.
